


A tale of Two Stations

by MRTL85



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Cassarric - Freeform, Dragon Age AU, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Made For Each Other, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Leliana/Female oc, Minor M!Hawke/Isabella, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Past Relationship(s), Rival radio stations, Seeker and the storyteller, but love finds them, but they don't know that yet, calling in to eachother's show's, cannon friendly, catalist character death, inspired by multiple movies, minor Bianca Davri/Bogdan Vasca, more than meets the eye, never meeting face to face before, not entirely cannon compliant, not looking for love, only hearing eachother's voices, small cameo from Alistair, small cameo from Maryden Halewell, tethraghast - Freeform, the Maker's will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MRTL85/pseuds/MRTL85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric Tethras, a quick witted radio presenter from 'Lowtown Lowdown' loves being the thorn in the side of forthright advice host from 'The Seeker of Truth', Cassandra Pentaghast. What he doesn't realize is that she's a rose in her own right, with just as many thorns. How long can they hide behind the charade of a microphone before they realize there is more to their banter than meets the eye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a little side project I've been working on. *smirks* these two will be the death of me, I swear. 
> 
> I'd also like to take a moment to thank Eclectify for helping me with the editing and all her writing wisdom she shared. Your input was priceless and I can't thank you enough for imparting some of it on me. 
> 
> I own nothing DA related. That is owned by Bioware/EA. All that other stuff though, that's me.

 

 

 

“...It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… who starts a book like that?! I mean, who honestly thinks that is a good beginning to anything? You should try and capture the reader's attention right out the gate, not start it off with weird, contradictory poetry. That stuff just confuses people. And the way the rest of the book drags on and on about the revolution, with no true adventure in sight...who would ever want to read about that. It is so dry I'm surprised it wouldn't catch fire in my hands. I don't care if the author is a great literary figure, his books are shit.” Varric's gravelly voice tumbled out onto the microphone, words a whip crack of agitation.

 

The only reason he had chosen the damn book was because of Cassandra. She'd called during his show a week before and gone off on a tirade about how Varric couldn’t comment on things he hadn’t even read. Her insults were creative, he’d give her that, but he’d heard it a thousand times before. Cassandra liked to stick to what she knew and deliver it with blunt force and sheer determination to be heard. Varric, now he’d have made a thin-veiled threat - employed a little blackmail maybe. Something with a little more finesse and a lot less growling and vitriolic pontification.

 

Usually he would have favoured her with a sly comment and then flat out ignored her, but he'd been told that it would be best if he gave into her demand—purely to maintain the ratings of course. Not that he had to. His show alone brought more than enough to keep the station afloat. He was doing it purely for posterity... and possibly to rile Cassandra up. Just a bit. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to annoy her. Not when she so blatantly left herself so open like that. She was such an easy target.

 

A light began flashing on one of the station's telephone lines. Right on queue. “Ah, we have a caller on line one. I wonder who it could possibly be?” He mused to his listeners, ready for Cassandra to let loose.

 

“Your inflated ego about the trash you peddle doesn't give you the right to criticize that piece of _literature,_ Varric.” Cassandra's icy tone—which, he was certain, she only reserved for him—came blasting through the speaker.

 

He chuckled with no small amount of glee at her displeasure, the office chair creaking under the weight as he moved the seat back and forth. “Why Seeker, be still my heart! Does that mean you read my books?”

 

Maker, how he loved winding her up.

 

“NO- of course not! I've... merely heard about the tripe you come up with from others. I would not stoop so low as to read anything _you've_ written.”

 

“Ah, Seeker,” Varric clutched at his chest dramatically. “You wound me! My books can't be _that_ bad! Unless half of Thedas is using them as paperweights instead of reading them.” He highly doubted that was the case, especially when people would call into his show all the time and tell him how much they loved his books. She was totally grasping at thin air there.

 

Giving a glance to his watch, he was surprised his time was almost up. “Unfortunately, that seems to be all the time we have for today. On that note, thanks for listening to Lowtown Lowdown, with me, Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tagalong. Coming up after the commercial is everyone's favourite broody weather man, Fenris, and at eleven, beautiful botany with Merrill.” His broad fingers depressed the hold button promptly and slid about the soundboard, making sure to turn off the mic and all necessary equipment. Letting his headphones slip off into his broad palms, he placed them upon the desk before dragging a hand through his hair and tying it back out of his face. Now to deal with Cassandra.

 

“You still there? Sorry about that. I needed to finish my show before you got going one of your amusing tirades. You know—if it was up to me—I would let you keep going, but I don't think broody would be happy about me cutting into his time.” His voice rumbled into the handset.

 

“I do not go on tirades, Varric!” A loud, exasperated groan bounced toward him then, a ball of noise which hit his ear abruptly and forced him to pull away from the receiver for a moment. “I was simply stating that you would have no idea what proper literature was, even if it hit you in the face.”

 

“That's rich coming from you, Seeker, since you've never read any of my stuff. And since when did you become a know-it-all on the subject? I mean, where's your diploma? Do you carry it around with you in your pocket and whip it out in people's faces whenever anyone disagrees in your taste in books?” He let out a long sigh, “Look, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. Opinions are like testicles, you kick 'em hard enough and it doesn't matter how many you've got. Now, I've got to go and meet with my editor, so I'm gonna have to cut this short. But who knows? I might just phone in tomorrow and steal the show from you while you’re on the air.” He smirked while another disgusted noise toppled through the receiver.

 

“You cannot be serious. You have no such control over my listeners, much as you like to think so. And no, I may not be educated in the scholarly sense, but I know a good book when I see one. Good day, Var-”

 

He snapped. “Here's a thought—how about you read one of my novels before you tell me my books are shit.”

 

His voice was a knife, cutting Cassandra's assumptions into pieces and the instant he let them slip from his mouth, he regretted them. Hanging up the phone without warning, a hefty groan escaped his lips and he rubbed at his tired eyes. Why did her opinion of his books bother him so damn much? It's not like he ever took anything she said seriously. Not really. For all he knew, it was a stunt put on my her station to boost ratings. Besides, her harsh words would only get more readers interested in his books. It shouldn't bother him that much. Then why did it feel like her words were sandpaper, rubbing him the wrong way?

 

His feet moved him through the jungle of office cubicles that made up the back end of the station, her barbed comments still snagging on the fibres of his mind. It really pissed him off that she would criticize his books when she hadn't read any of them; she wasn't usually the type to form opinions unless she had something to back it up. That's what she was most known for, after all. Her program was about getting to the bottom of things—an advice kind of show—called _The Seeker of Truth_. She seemed to have the know-how that was needed to help people with their problems, and yet, the only thing that seemed to come out of her mouth in regards to his books, was criticism. He thought she was made of better stuff than that. Apparently he'd thought wrong.

 

“You know what? Fuck it. Doesn't matter anyways,” he muttered to himself as he reached the glass doors that led out onto the sidewalk. Pushing one open with his broad palm, the crisp air of autumn danced over him as he exited the building. A shudder ran up his spine and he pulled his coat closer about his stout build. Even though he hated the cold, at least it wasn't raining. Or snowing. He despised all types of water, unless it was the kind that involved a nice hot shower. Which he wanted nothing more than to enjoy right now, but he still had to meet with his editor about his new book. _No rest for the wicked_ , he figured.

 

His car—Bianca, as he called her—was parked round the corner, and he walked swiftly to it as the wind buffeted about him, leaves fluttering past as he neared his destination. Maker, it was blustery outside. Wisps of his hair were now being tugged free from his hair tie as he pushed onward, wind whipping it about his face irritatingly. He attempted to push the flyaways back, but they just wouldn't cooperate. Groaning at the minor frustration, he swiftly pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the car and hopped inside. His hands then smoothed over his hair again, finally taming the strays that had come loose and re-tying his hair back. Once he had gained back some form of control over his appearance, he put the key in the ignition and let Bianca's engine roar to life.

 

A classic car from a time gone by, she was a pure indulgence. Bianca had been a gift from a lover of his, after his books first took off, and at first, he thought she was being generous. But as things started to break down, he realized it was all a ploy to buy his love. Thank sweet Andraste he had given up that arrangement. He was tired of the heartache and, if he was honest with himself, being used. Sharing her with another man, let alone her husband, was _not_ something he had signed up for. Never again. That was his only solace in keeping the car after things turned sour. His car served a purpose—to remind him not to make the same mistake again; he was getting too old for that kind of shit.

 

Putting her into gear, he sped off in the direction of his editor's office. Hopefully he wasn't going to be too late because of Cassandra's antics.

 

~TtS~

 

 

“Ugh! You are such an ass!” she yelled at the earpiece of the phone when Varric had rudely hung up on her. Slamming the receiver down forcefully, She collapsed back into her office chair in a huff, the seat complaining at the sudden weight. Maker take him! Why did he always have to be so infuriating! A long drawn out sigh graced her lips, as her arms crossed themselves neatly in front of her. The trouble was... he was right. She had jumped to conclusions without having the necessary information about his books, and he had caught her red handed. She was not usually in the habit of throwing unfounded accusations around. Truth be told, she felt terribly bad about it, but it was impossibly hard not to become accusing, especially when he got way too much joy from her discomfort. That didn't excuse how she acted though and in retrospect, she should have seen it coming, really. Well, there was only one thing left to do—it couldn't hurt to humour Varric and pick up one of his books on her way home. If anything, she would be better prepared to disarm the pretentious accolades of his own books next time.

 

Putting her day planner and water bottle back in her bag, she gave one last scan of the booth to ensure everything was back in order for Leliana. He mental check list done, the door swung open with a creak and she exited into the stark fluorescent light of the hallway.

 

Cassandra was relatively new to the radio business, having just completed her broadcasting program the year prior, and on the insistence of the stations owner and now, her dear friend, Dorothea. In fact, she was the only reason why she had pursued this line of work in the first place. The remembrance of her beginnings at the station filtered into the forefront of her thoughts as she wandered down the maze of hallways.

 

It had always been an uncanny skill of hers, to separate the truth and the lies of others. Originally it had been her dream to pursue a career as a PI, but as the years passed, and one failed attempt at schooling later, she found it wasn't the right fit for her. She was too impatient and impulsive to carry out undercover investigations and she didn't think there was any way she had the mind to spend hours sifting through information on the people she was investigating. That’s when she tried to go back to the drawing board so-to-speak. Seek out a new path that would be better suited to her candid personality.

 

The first week, she was very pro-active, doing lots of research and looking into anything that caught her eye, but it was hard to keep optimistic with very little money coming in from her part-time job. By week three, she was nearly panicking that she would become destitute. She had had some money saved, but most of it had been used up since her decision to change career paths. She'd need to think of something fast, if she wanted to avoid becoming penniless. Perhaps she'd send a prayer to the Maker. Maybe it would help her to focus and with his guiding hand, point her in the right direction.

 

A few days after sending that prayer to the Maker, he answered.

 

She had started to listen to an advice show on the radio, when it happened. It made her feel as if she wasn't alone in the world with her problems, that others were struggling just like herself. It eased her worries greatly. They may not have had the same problem as her, but she felt a sense of comradery nevertheless.

 

One dreary Saturday morning, while Cassandra was folding laundry, a woman called in and asked about how to approach her co-worker whom she had feelings for and wanted to know if it was a good idea that she even broach the subject. She immediately empathized with the caller. There was a time she herself had found it hard to express her feelings for a young man who she had once worked with. Armed with the knowledge that if she didn't at least try, she would never know if he felt the same, she bit the bullet and told him. Getting out of her own way was the hard part though. She had been so scared of rejection, it took her at least five tries just to talk to him without becoming impossibly flustered. Once done, she found that all her worry was for nothing.

 

That fond memory still had enough emotion left over to make her heart flutter and even though they had parted ways some time ago, she always had a special place in her heart for him: her first and only love. No one ever had come close to being what he had meant to her, after he had left. So, she was content to continue on alone, not out of choice, but waiting for someone else to sweep her off her feet the way he had. It had been well worth the time they had together, and she wouldn't take it back for anything.

 

While the presenter seemed mildly interested in the woman's predicament, he did little to direct her to some sort of conclusion, which irked Cassandra greatly. Being wishy washy was not the way to find a solution. What a flake! His only job was to help people, and even though he said he would help the woman, there was nothing coming from his mouth except bad anecdotes. She couldn't just stand by and allow the fool of a radio personality to give out terrible advice! That was the last straw. She had to do something. Punching the phone number into her mobile, she’d pressed send and waited for the host to pick up. After two rings, he answered. That was his first mistake.

 

Cassandra had wasted no time, laying into him about how stupid his advice was, without even giving him time to ask what she was phoning in for. She would not allow the dunce to get away with it. He should simply find another job that better suited him, since this one certainly didn't.

 

Once she was done berating the host, she’d switched to ignoring him completely and started giving her own advice to the woman. She deserved advice straight from the heart, and nothing less would suffice. Cassandra made it clear to the woman that she should follow her instincts and talk to him about it, saying that she would regret it deeply if she didn't. Tormenting herself with keeping those feelings inside would do more harm than if she set them free, even going as far as suggesting she use a token to show her feelings for him if she felt too shy. She seriously hoped that the host had taken notes on how to properly help people. That or he was using the paper to write his two weeks notice. He really should not be in the business of helping people.

 

A week later, the woman phoned back and told everyone that the advice she had been given hadn't worked as well as she thought it would. The woman claimed it wasn't because the advice was bad, but because of awkward miscommunication on her part and the fact she had used a mutual work friend to help her out—which made things worse. She had no idea how she would ever get over the fear of telling him; it seemed to her that she was destined to remain alone unless she got more help.

 

Again, the radio personality was quite blasé about the whole situation, which only infuriated Cassandra more. He obviously hadn't taken any notes the first time. The stupid fool. He was supposed to be helping people and getting to the bottom of things, not telling the caller that maybe she was right! He went on to tell her she should just leave it alone because if he obviously wasn't interested and that's why she was getting nowhere with him. What a bunch of horse shit.

 

Fingers flying across the keypad, she’d dialled into the radio again, this time her ire a flame burning white hot. This useless excuse for a presenter had no business giving advice over the radio! Razor sharp daggers for words were spat out through the phone, puncturing the pretentious bubble that had been protecting the host. It got so bad, that they had to cut to commercial to spare the radio personality total embarrassment of crying on the air.

 

Yes, the caller's deeds and actions were being misconstrued by her potential love interest, but Cassandra had the innate need to tell her she needed to try again, certain that it would be well worth the torment. She needed to hold out hope that the woman would succeed at finding love. She deserved it. Everyone did.

 

When she had promised to keep her temper under control to the shows producer, she was allowed the small triumph of being allowed to revise her help.

 

... _It must be you who initiates this, dear caller. Your friend, no matter how helpful, may be confusing what you wish to convey to the man. You need to be brave in the face of love, even if it means that your heart is left vulnerable. Do it. Don't think, just act, and I assure you that it will all be worth it..._ her own words echoed within the walls of her mind while she stepped onto the main level of the station; the memory as bright and vivid as if it had been made only yesterday.

 

After that, Cassandra had kept a keen ear to the radio show that the caller frequented, waiting for an update of any kind and even though the days turned into weeks, she still held out hope that she would call in with good news. After nearly a month of nothing though, she was becoming disheartened that the woman caller had either given up on her chance at love or it hadn't worked out. Putting it out of her mind, she carried on with her life, trying not to let it bother her too much. She had more pressing matters to attend to anyway. The first order, being to find a job that paid enough so she wouldn't have to feel as if she was living paycheck to paycheck.

 

By the time the woman had called back into the station, Cassandra nearly had forgotten about her and the advice she had tried to provide, the memory like a ghost in the back of her head. However, when she heard the caller's voice come over the radio waves one morning, she dropped everything and ran to the stereo on her kitchen counter, leaning so close, she could hear the faint crackling of the speaker in her ears. With bated breath Cassandra heard the caller tell the last of her account, her eyes went wide and the beat of her heart began to thump in her chest like a drum, hoping beyond hope that she had sincerely helped her.

 

As it had turned out, the woman finally had plucked up enough courage to talk with him and tell him of her true feelings. At first it was met with silence. The caller had feared the worse, and was about to apologize for being so forward, when he admitted to sharing her feelings. She told the host she felt so incredibly stupid that she had spent all that time worrying and using round about methods to tell him she was interested, when she should have been brave enough to meet the situation head on in the first place. Not only that but she now felt empowered by Cassandra's advice and that the man in question and her were now involved.

 

Oh blessed day! Hearing those words had made Cassandra's heart rejoice in triumph. She had been of use to someone; helping them in a time of need. It almost felt as if she was doing the Maker's work in some way—guiding the woman to find the joy Cassandra knew her to be capable of.

Later that week, and much to her surprise, the producer—Leliana—got in contact with her and let her know that the ratings for the show had skyrocketed, all because of her advice. She then asked if Cassandra to come into the station so the owner could meet her in person.

 

Once she had arrived, She was introduced to the staff of the show and was led to the office of the Owner. Dorothea was quite the pleasant woman to talk to, and it eased Cassandra's fears of being charged for acting so brashly. As it turned out, Dorothea was so interested in Cassandra's fresh take on the world that before she knew it, she had been offered a full time entry job at the station. She also proposed that if she went through the necessary schooling, she would no doubt get a spot in the station's morning show.

 

A laugh escaped Cassandra as she opened the doors that lead outside. She had helped someone, and in turn, was helped herself. It must have been the Maker's will the entire time. There was no other reason for it.

 

Making her way down the street, she quickened her pace as a chilly blast of wind wrapped its way around her form, her coat ruffling about in the gale. Hugging herself tightly, she braced herself against the stiff breeze and made her way to the bookstore a few blocks down.

 

She began to wonder what Varric's books were actually like—she suspected they would be filled with mystery and intrigue if anything he talked about on _Lowtown Low Down_ was to be considered. Ugh, just what she wanted to read about, _more_ conspiracy theories and lies. What a bore. Now romance novels, that is where her-

 

Suddenly, Cassandra's ears were met with the blast of a car horn and the deafening sequel of car breaks; she looked to see a gold car hurtling toward her like a battering ram. Shock made her body slow and defiant, her limbs refusing to move out of the way. All she could do was stare—like a halla in headlights—as the car tried to stop, its nose almost pushed to the ground like a hunting mabari.

 

Squinting her eyes tight and bracing for impact as best she could, she sent a silent prayer out to the Maker to keep her safe.

 

“What in Andraste's name do you think you're doing??! Shit, I could have killed you, walking out in the middle of the street like that! Next time watch where you're going, will ya!?”

 

Opening her eyes at the gruff voice that hit her ears like a wall of thunder, she watched the driver lean out of his car window, his face oddly obscured by the glare of the windshield; the car just inches away from her.

 

Thank the Maker, she was alive!

 

When she walked out onto the street, she could have sworn that there were no vehicles coming. The car must have been speeding, that was the only reasonable explanation.

 

She clenched her fists and looked at him through slitted eyes. There was no way he was going to get away with it. He had almost hit her. Her feet marched purposely to meet him at his window, wanting nothing more than to give him a piece of her mind, but as she rounded the car's headlight, he punched it and the car shot forward like a bullet. All she was able to catch of the person who had almost killed her, was a streak of coppery blonde hair and a broad hand gripping the steering wheel.

 

“HEY! Come back here, you coward! Void take you!!” She yelled after the car as it shrank fast into the distance. Maker's breath, what bastard does that to someone—taking off instead of checking to see the other person is okay. Someone who only cares for themselves. Obviously.

 

This was quickly turning into a lousy day. First, she let Varric make her feel like shit because she assumed his books were crap without proper evidence, and now she almost killed by some madman speeding in a car. A black cloud began to settle over her head. All she wanted to do was go home after everything she had been through that morning, but she had told herself she owed it to Varric to read at least _one_ of his books. Resigning herself to complete her task, she crossed the road—a little more cautiously this time—and made her way to the bookstore.

 

Her hand grasped the cold metal of the doorknob and as the door opened, the cheerful ringing of the old fashioned doorbell filled her ears. Stepping inside, the smell of paper and ink wafted over her, mellowing the dark mood she was in and prompted the corners of her mouth to turn up in a smile. It was small comfort to her, especially on this seemingly terrible start to her day. Reading was Cassandra's favourite pastime, and she thoroughly enjoyed spending hours among the pages of a book. Most of the time though, she was too busy promoting her show or helping out at the station in her spare time to get much reading done.

 

Deciding to take the rest of the day for herself, she perused the walls of books. Wandering leisurely from section to section, she took time to enjoy the feel of each cover she touched and the rustle of the pages under her fingers. Soon, the dark cloud had dissipated and she was left with a quiet sense of contentment. It was just what she needed to brighten her spirits.

 

On a whim, she ambled down the romance aisle. _One quick peek_ , she told herself, then she would go search out one of Varric's books. She'd finished her last romance novel weeks back, and wanted something fresh to sink her teeth into the next time she found a moment. Not that she couldn't do that with one of Varric's books, but just as a failsafe, she wanted something interesting to keep her from complete boredom if his books turned out to be as dull as she imagined them to be.

 

She thumbed the spines casually, only half paying attention to the titles and the authors who graced the covers. Then, she saw it. A book tucked into the corner of the shelf, virtually obscured by another, much larger one. The hidden novel—called Swords and Shields—was by none other than the man himself! What were the chances that she would find one of Varric's books in the romance section! How in the void had he managed to write a romance novel? It was almost ridiculous to think he would have the capability to write such a thing, given how lewd he was on his show. It certainly piqued her interest. _This is going to be extremely entertaining to read! I bet it is so atrocious, that it barely paid for the paper it was written on! And once I'm finished this disgraceful book, he will never be able to question my judgement his books again!_

 

She let out a sigh. No matter how badly they clashed on air, she had come to think of Varric as a companion of sorts. Not a true friend, but someone more than an acquaintance—not that she'd ever tell him that. Truth be told, she didn't possess many friends; the amount of people she could count as being on friendly terms with her could fit on her hand. She knew it probably was because of the gruff way she dealt with things and others in her daily life. She even suspected that some feared her. But not Varric. He simply took her candid banter in stride and quite often gave it back to her without fear. In fact, she found the repartee between them to be invigorating. It was just too bad he felt the need to embellish the truth so much. She really wished that he would, just once, show a side of himself that was true.

 

“Idle fancy,” she muttered to herself and went to pay for the book. She shouldn't ponder the reasoning of a person who she had never met. There was no use for it. Pushing those thoughts aside, she gave up some bills to the clerk and said “Thanks,” before stepping through the door and back out into the cold. The wind was coming in violent gusts now, whipping leaves about her as she walked back to her car, desperate to be home.

 

 

A storm was approaching. The wind was now howling since she had entered the store and rain begun to sprinkle down upon her as she walked back to the station's parking lot. She didn't mind the rain so much, but when it was paired with an ice cold wind, that's when she started wishing for the comfort of some tea and a nice, warm bed. Or even better, a bath—complete with lit candles and a nice glass of wine. That's what she'd do when she got home. She'd crack open this ridiculous book and spend the evening in the bath, allowing all her frustration to melt away.

 

An appreciative hum touched her lips at the thought. Perfect. Now all she had to do was navigate her way home in this inclement weather. Thank goodness her car was sturdy and reliable.

 

Tugging on her key ring in her pocket, her keys clinked together merrily as they slid out of her pocket. Rounding the bend, she zigzagged her way through the rows of cars. A shiver shook her body as she neared her car, her coat and hair now sopping wet while a blast of wind buffeted about. She hoped she wasn't going to get ill because of this blasted weather. She couldn't afford to take the time off. Not because of the money, but because she felt indebted to Dorothea and Leliana for allowing her to be a part of the station. They had taken her under their wing and asked for nothing in return. The least she could do was devote her time to the station as a thank you for everything they had done. Which, if she got sick, would interfere with that plan. There was no way she was going to rest if came down with something—she grimaced at the very thought of it—when there was so much to do and so many to help.

 

She opened and shut the door to the car in one swift movement, sinking down into the cold leather of the driver's seat as beads of water dripped down her face. She needed to get home and out of these wet clothes that clung to her like a second skin. Starting the car, her hand immediately went to the dials, adjusting the heat so that the interior would heat up as fast as possible. She was frozen to the bone and she shivered uncontrollably as the first blast of cold air hit her skin. Why was the car taking so long to warm up!

 

Finally, she felt the temperature of the air begin to rise as she gripped the steering wheel and reversed. A feeling of joy fell over her as she realized, in as little as a half-hour, she would be home—the bath and the alcohol calling her name—probably reading the most preposterous romantic fiction she had ever laid eyes on. Until then, she'd just have to make do with the lukewarm air that was forcing itself through the vents and hope for the best.

 

 


	2. 1. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation to the Local Radio Awards ceremony and a proposition.

I. Expectations

 

 

Varric didn't usually get much in the way of traditional mail, so when he spotted a fancy envelope in his mailbox one morning, he was mildly surprised. It's not that it didn't ever happen, but most of the mail he got were bills or royalty checks from his books. Not something as extravagant as this. This could only mean one thing—a party.

 

The sound of tearing filled his ears as he ripped open the envelope with a finger, a broad smile flashing over his face. It had been way too long since his last invitation to a big do and he was desperate for an excuse to let loose. His enforced hermitage was all thanks to his book and working his ass off to finish it by the deadline. His editor would probably tear him a new one, if he didn't. “Party pooper” he muttered to himself. She was always so demanding. Right, but demanding. One night off couldn't hurt, could it? He really missed being social.

 

The envelope gave up the invitation with little effort and as it slipped into his hand, he noted the weight of it. This was no ordinary invitation. It was made of pricey card stock with lots of gold leafing, too formal for the usual invites he got. This meant something big.

 

Flicking open the flaps, he realized immediately what it was for—the Annual Radio Awards.

He let his eyes dart back and forth across the invitation, his gaze not stopping too long until he found something that didn't usually come with it—a request to present an award.

 

“Andraste’s dimpled buttcheeks,” he said, stunned. Sure, he'd won a fair amount of awards over the years, but never had he been chosen to present one to someone else before. He figured it was all because the pompous, self righteous elite who organized the thing had something against dwarves, the nug humping bastards. He had encountered discrimination like this before, although it had lessened as years passed the more famous as an author and radio personality he became. It’s not as if he really cared about what they thought, but people often changed their tune when they realized who he was, now that he’d become famous. _It just goes to show you how screwed up this world really is,_ he thought to himself. Minority groups often got ridiculed and experienced discrimination by the humans and yet, it seemed that the humans were the ones making the world go to the void. Typical.

 

Reading over the invite again more carefully, he realized not only was he presenting the award for best newcomer, but he wasn't doing it alone. Cassandra was to be presenting it with him.

 

_Well, shit._

 

Finally he was going to meet the illusive Seeker of Truth and find out what she really looked like. His curiosity was thoroughly piqued at the possibility and if her voice was anything to go by, he'd assume she was as angular as her arguments and every bit as striking. Not that he'd expected to find her beautiful of course. How was he even to tell, never having seen her. But the way she presented herself over the air led him to think that when she walked into a room, people took notice—not unlike himself in a way. She probably would have long hair, dark as her mood on a bad day, and she'd have to be short. Anyone with a temper that bad would have to be compensating for something.

 

A cough came from behind him and he realized that he had been absentmindedly standing in front of the mailboxes for Maker knows how long, blocking anyone else from getting their mail, the invitation still clutched in his hands.

 

Turning around, he flashed a winning smile. “Sorry about that. I'll just finish up here and get out of your way, Curly.”

 

The wavy haired man grinned back at him. “Not a problem, Varric. Looks as if you've got a lot on your mind. Woman troubles, perhaps?”

 

“You could say that.” He muttered under his breath.

 

The tall, sandy blonde cocked his head to the side “Did you say something? I seemed to have missed it.”

 

Shit, he'd heard.

 

“Don't worry yourself about it. Wasn't worth bringing up anyways.” He let out a sigh as the keys jingled in the lock of his mailbox. Giving a short wave to Cullen on his way past, Varric headed up the two flights of stairs to his apartment.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

So, she was to present an award with Varric. Great.

 

Cassandra padded through her living room toward the kitchen, tossing the invite onto the small wooden table next to the already worn copy of _Swords and Shields_ as she went about making her breakfast.

 

One bowl of porridge with berries and a cup of coffee later, she slipped into her seat and stared between the invite and the book that had surprisingly captured her heart. Sighing into her coffee, she took a long swig, the burning hot liquid spreading warmth throughout her body.

 

Obsessed. It was the only way she could describe herself right now.

 

Varric not only had written a magnificent book, but she was now on the hunt for all of his other works as well. Even the ones that were filled with lies and intrigue. Sweet Andraste, what was happening to her?! Obviously, she needed to keep this to herself. No one could ever know what she thought of his books, especially after the fool she made of herself on the air. No one. She'd just have to buy his books online, instead of the book store, and read them only at home without the wandering eyes of others. Maker forbid, if Leliana ever caught her reading one at work! She'd never hear the end of it. Yes, best to keep it hidden. That's exactly what she'd do.

 

Now, as for the awards ceremony, there was no way she could back out of it. She'd been chosen to present with the dwarf, himself, and if she didn't show up, she'd no doubt hear about it. An irritated noise made its way up the back of her throat. Why of all people, did it have to be him! Maker preserve her.

 

This was the first year she had been able to go and even though she was keen for it—as much as she could be with Varric in tow— sadness and grief had tainted the excitement she felt. Her brother had passed two days before the ceremony last year and there was no way she would have gone after something so heart wrenching had happened. Tears pricked at her eyes at the memory. _Anthony…_ she half-whispered, stifling a sob as it echoed about the quiet kitchen.

 

Tears fell silently into her half eaten food. Damn. She thought she was over this.

 

Rubbing the backs of her hands against her eyes, she sucked in a few deep breaths to try and calm her emotions.

 

Anthony had been killed in an altercation on a drug bust back in Nevarra. He had been undercover, trying to find out where a new drug—dragon's blood—was coming from. That's when another drug ring showed up and attempted to steal the narcotics. Fatally wounded in the skirmish, by the time the ambulance had gotten there, he had been pronounced dead.

 

Pain seared like re-opening an old wound. Her heart broke all over again at the memory of her brother and the impossibly long year without him. Anthony - the only one of her family worth talking to after everyone else abandoned her and her brother after her parents had died. Except for Uncle Vestalus, of course. Not that he possessed any idea of good child rearing. He spent most of his time working as a mortician in a morgue and when he _was_ at home, he'd expected them to keep to themselves and not disturb him. Growing up, Anthony was the only person who she could confide in. Now he was gone, no one felt trustworthy enough to keep her secrets. Not even Leliana, and she was as close to a best friend Cassandra could get.

 

“Stop it, Cassandra! Dwelling on such things is not productive. Anthony would not want you crying over him any longer, he'd want you to get up and make the best of what you have, not wallow in self pity.” She shouted to an empty room, scolding herself at her own pity party.

 

There was no way she was missing the ceremony this year, and Andraste guide her, she was not going to allow Varric to ruin it for her. She would go in her brother's honour. No matter what he did, how many sarcastic remarks that came from his mouth, she would not allow him the joy of seeing how much he annoyed her.

 

Another issue altogether. She'd have to be in the physical presence of the man. Damn, this might turn out to be harder than she thought. Not only was he able to irritate her at the drop of a hat, but he was also fast becoming her favourite author. She'd have to be careful not to let anything slip.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

“Okay folks, gather round. Boy do I have a story for you today,” Varric's voice intoned dramatically over the airwaves. “Did I ever tell the story of how Hawke party crashed a gala at Chateau Haine? Well, it all started, as most crashing does, with an insider...”

 

He watched through the glass in the booth, as Hawke's head shot up and gave him the biggest, cheekiest smirk in all of Thedas. Today, Varric wanted some company and this was always a sure fire way to get Hawke and the Rivaini to join. Once and awhile—okay, maybe a bit more often than that—they would slip in and join his show after theirs was over, sharing the tales that bound them together in friendship. His stories were always a crowd pleaser, and who was he to deny his listeners of a good tale when they were so readily available with the help of two of his best friends.

 

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye as he continued the story, watching as Isabela swaggered in and moments later, Hawke followed. Having them there always added to his stories in a much more personal level. Sure, it would have been fine if they weren't there, but with them adding things in that he'd forgotten or embellishing it with their own anecdotes helped to keep the story fresh and exciting for both him and his listeners.

 

In all the years he'd been doing this kind of thing, this was the most unlikely place he'd expect to find some of his best friends. And yet, he did. In fact, they weren't just friends to him—they were family… the only family he had now, since his bastard of a brother had upped and died on him. Damn botched lyrium. He'd gotten his hands on some tainted stuff that made him go insane. Varric hadn’t realized until it was too late and he ended up lying six feet under, in a grave next to their parents. That's where his friends had helped him the most, not that he would openly admit it. They kept him on the straight and narrow—well, as straight and narrow as he allowed himself to be. Which wasn't saying much, but befriending them had allowed him to stay kind in the face of tragedy, instead of allowing his heart to harden with it. He came to care about them, and in doing so, that meant he had to give a damn about himself. Friendship was the best medicine for grief, for sure.

 

He'd met Hawke not long after his show began on the radio station. He was initially supposed to handle complaints, which back in those days, happened quite a bit. But Varric saw something in Hawke. He knew that that wasn't what he should end up doing. One night, over beers at his old haunt—The Hanged Man—Varric realized that Hawke needed to have a show of his own. He had just the type of personality that would be amazing on the air—outlandishly funny, and could charm the pants off of anyone. Perfect for a radio host. So, he did what any friend would do, and pestered his boss until he allowed Hawke to co-host with him as an audition. The rest was history.

 

With the Rivani, it was different. Much, _much_ different. Hawke was finally granted his own show, and she ended up being one of his first guests. Well, to make a long story short, she ended up charming the pants off of _him_ for a change—literally—and the next thing that happened, she was co-hosting the show. Varric had _no_ idea how she had completely won his boss over, but he suspected that it had something to do with a proposition sans clothes.

 

She also, as he later found out, had this little trick where she could pilfer anything from anyone. He was still ticked at her for his 'missing fountain pens'. Those things were antiques—antiques he liked to write his ideas down with for his books with. Which is why he almost didn't forgive her for that.

 

Almost.

 

He watched the smiling faces of Hawke and Rivaini as his words met the radio with flourish, and he knew he'd have it no other way.

 

“...and then Hawke glances up and says, _looks like the Duke... has fallen from grace!_ ” The laughter that came afterwards made his heart swell. It was more consoling than he'd realized as Cassandra’s rough words about his stories had affected him more than he'd thought.

 

Just as his thoughts had turned to the Seeker, the phone began to ring, and he started at the noise. He hoped it wasn't her, trying to get him to read another of what she considered “literature”. He braced himself and hit the flashing button. “Hello y-”

 

“H-hello. M-my name is… um… err- Duncan, yes, that’s me and I've got a problem. A big, big problem. You see, It's my wife. She's… she... I think she hates me, to be honest. No matter what I do, or say, she always ends up… angry. And then she tells me to get lost. Not in a nice way either...”

 

Varric frowned and looked at Hawke and Isabela questioningly. Not that they could help any, but it was good that someone else felt as confused as he was. “Um, buddy, I hate to be the barer of bad news, but you're talking on Lowtown Lowdown _,_ with Varric Tethras.” Maker help this poor sod. He must have rang the wrong number.

 

“W-What? You mean this isn't _The Seeker of Truth?_ I- I called the wrong number? Maker's breath, how stupid am I... well, sorry to disturb. I'll- I'll just be going now. Bye.”

 

The amount of stifled snickering that had filled the room made it near impossible to remain calm and collected on air, so Varric quickly announced he was going to commercials before a roar of laughter escaped him.

 

It took them at least five minutes to calm down from the hysterical laughter, and another two, to make sure they were able to talk without chuckling at any given moment. It was harder than he'd thought. Especially when Hawke kept on mimicking the poor unfortunate soul. He attempted at a stern glare, but it failed to come out as anything but a smirk while he went about the sound board and announced his return.

 

That's when his memory sparked to life. The hapless man had tried to call Cassandra and had gotten him instead. Which gave him a terrible, wonderful idea.

 

He hadn't called into her show in a while, and the upcoming awards ceremony was fast approaching. He had all the fodder he needed to pester her too. That was it. He'd call in and use the guy as a lead in. After all, he’d need some excuse to call her. He just hoped he could get through. There was always the chance that the guy was taking up the airwaves complaining that his wife didn't like him. Well, he couldn't find out if he didn't at least try, right? And with any luck, he'd be gifted to hear the sound of utter displeasure come from her, as she realized it was him on the other end.

 

There was nothing better.

 

Varric's face split into a grin. “Welcome back to Lowtown Lowdown. I'm of course, Varric Tethras, and with me today I have our dynamic duo from the breakfast show—Hawke and Isabela. For those of you who are just tuning in, today we've been talking about party crashing and, coincidently, I've just had my show crashed by a caller who was looking for the Seeker with a problem. Now, because I would hate to see the poor guy get maltreated, I've decided to phone up our dear Seeker and see how she's faring with the guy's problem. Hopefully she's left him in one piece.”

 

A mischievous smile was flashed at both Hawke and Rivani, and they chortled in unison as he blindly hit the speed dial, and waited for her to pick up.

 

“Hiya Seeker, how's everything? Helped anyone today?” the playful sarcasm he used was light on his tongue.

 

A disgruntled noise came from her then, and he smirked wildly at her enmity. This was going to be good, he just knew it.

“What do you want, Varric, I am in the middle of helping someone and have no time for your banter today.” She sounded more exasperated than usual. Good. That meant his teasing wouldn't take so long to rile her up.

 

“Actually Seeker, that's why I called. See, the guy called my show instead of yours, and on hearing his problem, I couldn't help but take an interest in his well being.”

 

He scoffed loudly in his ear. “You? Interested? I hardly doubt that! The only reason why you called is because you have nothing better to do than to hound me.”

 

“What a ridiculous assumption to make Seeker, not everything is about you, you know,” he said as he put a hand to his chest, feigning dismay. “I'm genuinely concerned for the guy, and that's no lie. Do you mind if I give him my two coppers? Of course, if you’d rather go it alone...”

 

“Why didn't you give him your 'two coppers' when he called into your show in the first place?” She spat back at him. “See? This is why I do not trust your motives, Varric. They are filled with lies.” Another weary sigh came from her, as rough as a gravel path and it stung him like he'd wounded himself on it. He surmised it was the disappointment evident in her voice; it was something he'd never expected from her. Sure, annoyance and disgust were a given, but disappointment never had laced her words before. It made him feel ashamed. Maybe he should try and be just a tad nicer instead of provoking her, just this once. There were plenty worse things in the world... Nugs for example—the creepy, oversized hairless rodents that they were. He shuddered. He'd take the Seeker over Nugs any day, and that was saying something.

 

Just as he made up his mind to change tactics, Isabela struck like a snake and grabbed the mic out of his reach before he could continue. “I beg to disagree Seeker! There's no true way to know what Varric's _motive_ is filled with... unless you're standing in front of him, of course.”

 

Well this was taking a turn for the worse. He should have known that would happen.

 

Hawke was just as quick. “It's quite the tool, too! I've seen him use it for all sorts of things... like lock picking, for instance. He can take the most stubborn of deadbolts and bend it to his will—just by his very touch. It's so entrancing t-”

 

Varric's hand was back around the mic before you could say Kirkwall, desperate to stop them divulging all the unsavoury things he'd done. “I think that's enough about my finer qualities guys, we wouldn't want to make the Seeker jealous of you both, now would we?” He chuckled at that, knowing Cassandra had to be silently seething. He couldn't help himself, it was just too fucking easy.

 

Even though the premise of the call was to rile her up a bit, he couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. His original plan was to use him as an excuse, but after his change of heart, he actually—genuinely—thought about helping the guy. It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d done, that’s for sure. Making up his mind, he decided to try and help for once. The only thing he needed to do, if he’d wanted to be successful in giving his advice, was getting the Seeker to believe he was honest in his intentions. Difficult wouldn’t even begin to describe it, but he knew it wasn’t impossible. He hoped luck was on his side.

 

“As I was saying before I got so _rudely_ interrupted,” He half glared at the two shaking forms next to him, their bodies bent in half and trying hard to keep their gales of laughter muffled. “I was actually expecting _you_ to be on the other end of the phone when the guy called, and when it turned out to be, well—not you—I was more than a little surprised. I guess I'd wrongly assumed you'd call in with another snide remark about my stories. Instead, I got some troubled man on the phone worrying about his marriage. And, when I told him that he had the wrong number, he panicked and hung up before I could get another word in edgewise. So I ask you, how in the void was I supposed to give him any advice, Seeker?”

 

His answer was met with with silence, and he half expected the dial tone to hum irritatingly in his ear, until a heavy breath rasped over the receiver. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Thank the Maker she’d decided not to hang up on him. “I suppose you have a point. Very well, say your piece.”

 

He smiled. “Thank you, Seeker. I owe you one. Now, to the concerned guy who obviously loves his wife and wants to do good by her. Guessing she's of the strong willed, independent variety, am I right? Sounds like quite the woman, Duncan. You're a very lucky guy. That being said said, she's a lady who needs an equal and not just someone who tags along—someone who can engage her and keep her guessing. You also need to earn her respect. If you don't, she's likely to keep going with the cold shoulder and you'll never get out of the dog house. So, here's my proposal. Use romance. Wine her, dine her, and show her you're a true gentleman. Pull out her chair, light a few candles—read her poetry for Andraste's sake! Just give her plenty of incentive to change her mind about you, cause that’ll be the only way to get back in her good graces.”

 

Well if Cassandra didn't think that was sincere enough, she could go suck an ice cube through a straw.

 

There was too much silence. He waited impatiently for a cutting rebuttal.

 

“Yes, well... I'm sure you would know all about being in the dog house, Varric. I wouldn’t put it past you to wallow there on a permanent basis. But, thank you for your insight, nevertheless. I'm sure the gentleman will put your wisdom to good use.”

 

Varric cocked his head, confused. “Huh. You're welcome, Seeker. And good luck Duncan. I hope everything works out. Bye.”

 

 _What in the fade was that?_ That half-assed remark was nothing compared to what she was usually capable of. And the thank you? She sounded like she was going soft. And here he was, so certain she'd stay as unmoving as a statue for eternity. Today, it seemed, was going to be one full of surprises.

 

“Well, I hope you all enjoyed today's show! A special thanks for Hawke and Isabela for being my guests, and to the Seeker for letting an old dwarf get to say his two coppers worth. Stay tuned for the weather report in five with Fenris, and coming up at eleven, Merrill is in, talking about healing herbs! I'm Varric Tethras and thanks for listening to Lowtown Lowdown.

 

He slipped his headphones off and flicked his fingers over the soundboard. _Shit..._ he grimaced. The opportunity to irk her about the awards ceremony was lost now, and he certainly wasn't going to phone back just to rile her up after that strange encounter. Teasing Cassandra would just have to wait.

 

Taking a quick glance at Rivani and Hawke before he grabbed his stuff, he noted the way they both looked knowingly at each other and then back at him. He could only guess they had read too much into his exchange with the Seeker.

 

“Oh no you don't! Shit's crazy enough as it is without you two making wild assumptions,” He pointed between them, a look of scepticism on his face. “Anyways, that's my job. And you wouldn't want to see your old friend out of work now, would you? Tell you what. Let's just forget the whole thing shall we, and go get a drink. Like old times. What d'ya say?”

 

“Of course Varric, we’d love to!” Isabela slid a hand over his shoulder attempting to use some slight of hand and card her fingers through his chest hair.

 

Varric laughed as he caught her hand gave her knuckles a quick rap. “Rivani, how could you! Using trickery to get to my chest hair when you could've just asked. A woman after my very own heart! Hawke, you've got a keeper there. Don't ever let her go.” He said with a wink.

 

“I'll try not to, but it's hard to compete with such a paragon of manliness in my way,” Hawke chuckled, the melodic tone, teasing in Varric's ears. “as for the drinks however, I won't say no, but only if there's better ale than the piss they serve in the hanged man. No offense, but I need something stronger—and you better be buying this time! I almost spent half of my inheritance when we last did this...”

 

There was nothing better than shooting the shit between old friends.

 

“Onward to the Herald's Rest!” Varric bellowed before they all filed out the booth and made their way to the local pub.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

Cassandra smiled delicately. “Well, Duncan. Now that you have some advice from both Varric and I, I hope you plan to use it to your best advantage. Take care.” Her voice—unusually soft—floated out over the mic as she hung up with her caller. “It appears that’s all the time we have today. I am Cassandra Pentaghast, and you've been listening to The Seeker of Truth. May Andraste be your guide. Coming up, Leliana has a riveting diversion about the dos and don'ts of Orlesian fashion. Then at twelve, our guest DJ Dreadwolf will be in, mixing you all the latest music for the lunch hour rush. Now here's a word from our sponsors...”

 

 _Maker preserve me..._ She let out an exasperated sigh as the headphones slipped off her head. Varric's advice had hit closer to home than she had expected, even though it obviously wasn't meant for her. He'd described the very thing that she yearned for and a pang of jealousy gripped at her chest—she wanted nothing more than to share in the ideal of true romance and courtship in which Varric had just described, but her unique personality often prevented it from happening.

 

Difficult and self-righteous were words she often used to describe herself and she knew not many suitors enjoyed those qualities in a woman. In fact, she figured most men were weary of her because of those aspects. It was extremely disheartening to know that was the truth of it. She just wanted someone to be able to accept her unusual temperament. Was that too much to ask?

 

That was, in part, the reason why she turned to romantic literature. In those books, she could have all of those things—the ideal ready and willing anytime she chose without the fear of judgement or being hurt, weighing on her shoulders. This way she could obtain the tenderness she yearned for without any of the madness of a real relationship. It still couldn’t relieve the ache for a love like the one she and Galyan had once shared though. Nevertheless, she considered herself a realist and knew the idea of finding another like him was slim, even though hope still tugged at the tendrils of her heart.

 

Varric had told Duncan that he was a lucky man for having a strong, independent woman as a wife. Perhaps he, himself—No. That was ludicrous. He was the splinter in her heel. The thorn in her side. She could never, _never_ allow herself to entertain that thought; he was much too infuriating and completely self-absorbed. There was no way she would allow herself to stoop that low. She needed a daring, dashing man, someone with a like mind to match her and not some smug dwarf who's only goal in life seemed to be badgering others for his own amusement. The idea was ridiculous. Varric's words weren't meant for her, they were meant for Duncan and his wife. She'd gotten carried away, most likely due to her recent interest in his books. It was a fleeting fancy. Nothing more.

 

She shoved her belongings into her cloth satchel as she thought pensively, the caress of the soft fabric gently bringing her back from her reverie. It was time for home. Giving a once over the room, she opened the door, turned off the light and exited the booth.

 

Her steps became light and quick as she walked toward the exit, the bitter-sweet thoughts pushed aside to make room for more enjoyable ones. She had been expecting a package, one that contained another of Varric’s books—Hard in Hightown. It had been an itch she had acquired after finishing Swords and Shields for the first time; questioning interest pulled at the back of her mind, wondering if his other novels were as good as his romance serial, so she’d ordered it as soon as she was able. The anticipation of reading something different from Varric put a smile on her face as she exited the building.

 

With any luck, the package would be waiting for her as she got home, concealed within her mailbox and its contents ready to be cracked open and the pages read. Hopefully, she'd be able to read a few chapters before she'd have to make an attempt at the paperwork that had been piling up from the station.

 

A buzzing noise came from her pocket. Someone was phoning her, she realized, and slipped her hand in to retrieve her mobile. An unknown number. Curiosity sparked to life. Who could it be? She didn't often get calls let alone ones from unknown numbers. She hoped it wasn't some sort of scam.

 

“Hello? Who is this?” She shot out tersely, preparing for a telemarketer's spiel, but was completely stunned when the gravelly voice on the other end answered.

 

Varric.

 

“Hey Seeker, It’s Varric. Uh... sorry to bother you. I tried to catch you before you left work, but Leliana told me you’d already split, so she gave me your number. I was wondering if you'd like to… uh, meet up maybe? I'm hanging out at the Herald's rest with Hawke and Rivani, if you're interested. I- I thought it might be nice to meet each other properly. You know, before we have to go giving out that award... just a thought.”

 

Her brows were furrowed in concentration. The clamour of noise that filtered over the phone very nearly obscured his voice—she almost didn't pick up on the fact he was asking her to join him at the Herald's rest.

 

Almost.

 

She barked out a laugh. “Sorry, you’ll have to speak up Varric, I cannot hear over the noise. It sounded as if you were asking me to join you at the Herald's Rest.”

 

“I was...” His crestfallen voice cut through the hubbub, and Cassandra instantly felt bad for turning his own parlor trick against him.

 

“Ah,” she sighed. He sounded dejected, which really didn’t suit him. Perhaps she could spare a half hour, and finally meet him face to face. If things became too uncomfortable, she could always leave.

 

“Well… in that case, I suppose I could find some time in my busy schedule to stop by. As you say, it would be good for us to meet before we are to present together.”

 

Her heart quickened like a thundering steed. She was to meet Varric, in the flesh. Nervousness clutched at her stomach, making it twist awkwardly. She did not want to become the butt end of some terrible joke in his physical presence. She hoped that this wasn’t a setup, otherwise she’d ring his neck. There was also the little matter of his books. It sat like a stone in her gut. She hated herself for assuming they were garbage, but she refused to impart the truth of it. There would be no way he could resist using her admission to humiliate her, so she was intent on keeping it to herself.

 

“You will? Great! We're sitting in the back. Can't miss us. See ya soon, Seeker.” His voice brightened considerably, and she could practically hear the grin in his words before she hung up.

 

She groaned and rubbed her hand over her creased brow. _Maker, why did I agree to this?_ It seemed to be the recurring theme of the day. First, she'd allowed Varric to give advice. Now, she was agreeing to meet him. This had 'bad idea' written all over it. But, she couldn't go back on her word. She said she would meet him, and that was what she was going to do. She'd just have to keep her wits about her, is all. Make sure he didn't catch her unawares. It was the only way she was going come out of this completely unscathed.

 

The bright mid-day sun sat on its cloudy perch, casting long shadows over the buildings as she walked in the brisk winter air and her breath puffed out in misty clouds about her lean frame. Seeing the soft vapor waft in front of her calmed the turbulent waves that rolled inside while she made her way to the Herald’s Rest.

 

 _Sweet Andraste_. She had reached her destination faster than she had thought. It felt as if a million butterflies had been caught in her stomach; taking a few deep, deliberate breaths to calm the fluttering, she focused herself, pulled at the cold latch of the door and walked inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. 2. Appearences vs. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting face to face for the first time has it's challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to do a double posting cause I'm an impatient trash bag. And, this is largely unbeta'd cause I wasn't willing to wait. So, If there's anything amiss, it's entirely my own damn fault. Sue me. 
> 
> Please feel free to let me know if there's any mistakes, so I can fix it though. :P
> 
> All things DA belong to EA/Bioware. The rest is mine.

2.

Appearances versus Reality

 

 

Cassandra's feet stepped over the threshold, compelled to squint in the dim lighting of the pub as her body was eclipsed in the cheerful sunlight, filtering into the room from the open door. She looked around. A few patrons scattered about at various wooden tables, talking in half hushed whispers as a television murmured quietly in the background. That was, until a cacophony of laughter met her ears. She groaned. _Well, at least I do not have to search…_

 

She weaved her way through the haphazard arrangement of tables and chairs. They were situated in a booth in the back corner of the establishment, just like Varric had described, and probably for good reason. The boisterous noise coming from their direction had confirmed it. As she strolled toward the trio, she noted the amount of empty glasses on the table. Maker preserve her. The sun had barely passed midday and they were already imbibing alcohol. She hoped that this wouldn't turn into a complete shit show as soon as she turned up.

 

“So there I was, knee deep in Nug shit...” The amusing lilt of Varric's gravelly voice met her ears as she neared. His broad back was to her, topped with a head of shaggy, red-blond hair, half tied at the crown of his head. Coming closer still, she found a chiseled jaw that trailed up to an ear with two gold hoops adorning it. More burnished gold hair was stippled beneath the angular lines of his cheekbones and daring to rake her eyes lower from over his shoulder, she found the hair continued on to cover what she could see of his muscular chest. Maker, his picture hadn't done him justice. She'd presumed that the portrayal on his book had been a fabrication of his own grandiose invention—as she knew he was prone to—but never expected the picture to be dulled in comparison. It was a shock to her senses, but one she secretly welcomed. She could feel her cheeks grow warm at consideration of him being handsome.

 

She watched on as his large hands waved about wildly during his tale. His bronze skin warmed by the spattering of hair laid to rest upon the back of his hands and knuckles. It was mesmerizing. She watched him spin his story and found herself drawn in like the other two at his table, hanging on his every word.

 

The one she had assumed was Hawke, took a swig from his glass. The amber liquid sloshed about in his glass and ice cubes clinked together like bells, as he placed it heavily back on the coaster. The female, who could only be Rivani, had her arm draped loosely around his muscular shoulders. Her low cut top revealed ample cleavage and was accentuated with a gaudy necklace. A labret piercing, like a cherry on top of a fancy desert, sat under the centre of her plump lips topping the ensemble off. It was nearly on the verge of excessive, and although Cassandra usually didn't care much for things like that, she couldn't help but feel intimidated by her blatant sexuality.

 

That's when the woman's eyes glanced up at her and one manicured eyebrow raised like a wave on the waking sea. The Rivani's arm slid from around the shoulder it was perched on and she nudged her lover to alert him of her presence.

 

Hawke quirked a mischievous smile upon spying her. “Um, Varric? What does your Seeker look like?”

 

“What? How should I know?” he quizzed right back, appearing confused at Hawke's strange question. “She should be here any moment, though. Why?”

 

“Because, I'm standing right behind you.” Cassandra's unimpressed voice rang out, making him noticeably flinch in his seat.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

Shit. He hadn't prepared himself for that. He thought he'd get a few more minutes to finish his tale before she arrived—admittedly it was as much for his own benefit as it was for Rivani and Hawke. His story was really just to help dissipate his nerves and he was hoping for a few more moments to shake off the uneasy feeling. He hated it. And now she was standing behind him. Great, so much for that idea.

 

Plastering a jovial smile, he turned. What he thought he'd find was completely blown out of the water. He'd expected short and intense streak of a woman. What he got was tall, dark, and gorgeous. Surprise flickered upon his features before the cheery expression returned in full. Maker, she was stunning. Well, at least the bet was worth it. It would make it that much sweeter when Hawke and Rivani paid up their 10 royals. It was easy money, really. He just _knew_ she'd be hard pressed to refuse. Although, not quite certain what their reasoning was, he could swear that it wasn't as clean as they'd made it out to be. It must've had something to do with the look they'd given him in the booth earlier and words unsaid between them about the Seeker being a good match for him. He supposed it wasn't entirely out of the question, but there were a few facts they'd largely overlooked. First, he was pretty sure she wouldn't want anything to do with him if it came to taking things further—she seemed not interested in that sort of thing anyways, and secondly, his heart hadn't completely healed over Bianca. He wasn't quite sure if it would ever heal either, to be honest. No matter what the excuses were though, he still went through with the bet, regardless if he'd fished out his friends hidden agenda along the way. He'd hate to loose face after all. There were standards he had to maintain.

 

Pushing his chair back, he stood and held out his hand. “Welcome, Seeker! It's great to finally put the face to the name. Surely, I need no introductions but I probably should introduce you to my friends. This here's Hawke and the lovely lady sitting next to him is Isabela—but I refer to her as Rivani. Hawke, Rivani—I'd like you to meet the Seeker, Cassandra.”

 

Cassandra took Varric's hand and shook it stiffly, nodding a silent greeting to them all. “Thank you for inviting me.” She gave a fleeting smile to the table.

 

“Not a problem,” he said, offering a chair. She sat, woodenly.

 

He noticed her awkwardness right away. It was coming from her in waves and he'd be damned if she turned out to be a buzzkill. Maybe after a drink she'd loosen up a bit. He knew he could use another, right about now. It was such a shame she was making things weird, and just when he thought things had started off so well.

 

Hawke smiled. “So, Cassandra. What's your poison? Let me guess… a bloody Mary?”

 

“No, Love. You're right off the mark—anyone can see she's into wine. White, I should expect.” Isabela said, eyeing her up.

 

“You're both wrong. I do not often find the time to drink—but if inclined, I like to have some red wine on occasion, but not today. I think I'll have some tea instead,” Cassandra affirmed, as she shot up and headed to ask the barkeep.

 

“Shit, she really is a prude.” Varric muttered as his friends both nodded in agreement.

 

“You don't suppose we could slip a little something into her tea? She'd never know...” Hawke offered.

 

Varric shook his head. “If she ever found out, she'd have my head, I'm certain of it. I think we'll just have to survive with pestering her for now. Besides, I need my head. I'm way too attached to it.”

 

Hawke gave a chuckle at that and Isabela's lips curled into a smirk. “My guess is she needs a good romp between the sheets. I bet she's not had any for so long she's got cobwebs! She desperately needs someone to clear them out before she forgets how to use it—I wouldn't half mind taking a crack at it myself, but something tells me that she'd turn me down. It's too bad though, I'm sure Hawke wouldn't object, wouldn’t you love? You'd probably want to watch at the very least.”

 

Hawke laughed. “I could never pass up the opportunity to have _two_ women in my bed—especially if they are as ravishing as you, Isabela.”

 

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Varric cocked his head and winked cheekily, just as Cassandra was walking back to their table.

 

“What is spoken like a true gentleman?” Cassandra asked as she returned without warning, curiosity obviously getting the better of her.

 

“Oh, Hawke was just offering up some ideas for my new book.” Varric snickered. It was the truth after all. He'd loosely based his characters off of his friends, but they didn't need to know that. Well, not at least until the book was published. Then they could find out for themselves. He wasn't in the habit of giving out spoilers, after all.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

The last time they'd talked about his books, it ended badly. She really felt awful about that, knowing the assumption about his books had been misguided. It left her feeling uneasy. Holding back the truth was something she not often made a habit of, but being ridiculed about her change of heart would upset her more. It was the right thing to do, given the circumstances, of course. Still, hearing that tidbit of information made her heart stutter in her chest. He was writing a new book. A book she'd no doubt pick up as soon as it was published and drool over it's contents like some simpering teenager. Andraste preserve her, she was becoming fanatical! Her cheeks blossomed with a rosy hue, making her feel impossibly foolish. He must have noticed her embarrassment because his eyes twinkled as he looked up at her. 

 

“If your worried about our spat over my books, Seeker, you can rest easy. I've gotten over it, and so should you. I should've realized that my books aren't for everyone—there's no need to be embarrassed about it.” He gave a wave of his hand, dismissively, as if brushing aside her embarrassment was an easy task.

 

“Yes—well, I'm glad to hear it.” She uttered, hoping that was the end of it. Thank the Maker he had thought she was ashamed about the disagreement and not the fact she had also become an enthusiastic admirer of his work. Half expecting him to tease, she was grateful that he had left it at that. She really didn't want to give him any ideas to needle her with, at least no more than usual.

 

 

Varric nodded and took a swig of his ale. “Well, I'm glad that's settled. Now, onto some good old fashioned fun,” He clapped his hands together. “Anyone got a deck of cards? I thought I had a pack in my bag, but I must have taken it out.”

 

“I might have a pack,” Hawke rummaged around in his own bag for a few moments and produced the beat up deck and thumped it down onto the table. “You're a bad influence, Varric. I've started carrying one around with me, just in case.”

 

Varric let out a roll of laughter, like thunder. “I wouldn't call that bad Hawke, I'd call that opportunistic!” He said, as he pulled out the cards from their casing.

 

Cassandra hadn't the faintest idea how to play cards. Sure, she'd tried once or twice, but after loosing abhorrently, she gave it up. It seemed a silly way to pass the time, as she could think up of much more enjoyable ways to amuse herself, like reading. And yet, here she was, about to be delt in to a game she would surely loose. “Ah, Varric? I'm sorry to say, but you will have to leave me out of the dealing. I cannot play… whatever it is we're playing.”

 

Varric looked at her quizzically. “You mean you've never taken the time to learn any card games? Really? Not even diamond six? Well, you're in luck, because it just so happens that we're the best three players this side of Lake Calenhad—we'd be happy to teach you how to play Wicked Grace. And don't worry, we won't be betting any money right away. Whatcha say, Seeker?

 

“I suppose,” She sighed, “but only one round as I really should be going soon.” She was going to regret this, she just knew it.

 

He smiled. “Great. It's settled.” The cards in his hands became a blur as he expertly shuffled them, dolling out five cards each. Cassandra picked up her hand, glancing from card to card, not knowing what to do.

 

Isabela noticed her confusion. “Don't fret sweet thing, I'm sure you'll do fine. The object of the game is to get a complete suit in your hand. Everybody has to discard and draw a card on their turn, until the angel of death card appears. Then everyone shows their hands, and the person with the best hand wins. Now, make sure to keep your cards to yourself. This is where it gets tricky. Your body language can give you away, if you're not too careful. Make sure to keep a straight face so to not let anyone onto your hand. Got it?”

 

Cassandra nodded. “Let's play.”

 

 

' ' ' ' '

 

 

A few hours later, she'd found she was no better at cards than when she started, even though she'd played through 3 more rounds of Wicked Grace. Perhaps even more startling was the fact she'd enjoyed herself so much that time had gotten away from her completely.

 

The raillery between everyone—including Varric—had turned out to be wonderfully amiable. Which was a first in her books. In all honesty, she had expected him to hold nothing back once they had met in real life, but instead, she'd almost considered him a gentleman. Sure, there was the odd dirty joke that had sailed across the table, but nothing she found to be too lewd. And he'd even offered to pay for her drink, which was an extremely kind gesture considering how she was usually treated by him. Come to think of it, it was a tad bit unusual; suspicion lurked in the shadows of her mind. _Was he being genuinely friendly or was he trying to hide something, s_ he wondered. If he was up to his old tricks, then she'd felt compelled to find out what it was. But right now, she needed to get home and finish some of that overdue paperwork.

 

“Thank you for the enjoyable evening out. I've not done something like this in such a long time and hope we could do this again.” She stood, creating a neat pile of dishes for the waitress to collect, and slid her coat on, preparing to leave.

 

Hawke and Isabela smiled at each other before tuning it on her. Hawke grinned. “We'd like that too. However, we should raise the stakes and actually play for money, next time.”

 

"Money is great and all love, but I wouldn't half mind playing for clothing instead. It makes things much more interesting." Isabela chuckled saucily.

 

“And, if it's alright with everyone, we could meet at mine next time.” Varric drawled, giving a wink at Cassandra.

 

She tried to hide a smile with a disgusted noise, and rolled her eyes for good measure. "If that is the case, I do not think I will be attending. I would much rather bet money than clothes, seeing as I am certain to loose again."

 

"Oh, I don't know Seeker, loosing your clothes can be quite the motivator. I wouldn't be surprised if next time you won and had the rest of us down to our smalls. " Varric's grin widened.

 

Cassandra laughed at the ridiculous thought. "I highly doubt that Varric, especially since I know I've not improved at all."

 

"Don't sell yourself short—you just need some more practise, is all. Hey, why don't you come over on Thursday evening and I'll go over some of the finer points with you." He offered.

 

"I would... like that." She smiled at him as she worried her hands. It was a strange feeling that creeped into her right then, as he had looked up at her, his grin warm and his disposition cordial. It made her spine prickle and her cheeks grow hot. She wasn't quite sure how what to make of these feelings that led her to think of what his place would look like—what his bedroom would look like—as his rugged features beamed up at her.

 

 _Maker, no_.

 

That was _not_ what he was suggesting. He was merely being friendly, offering to help her improve on her card skills. There was nothing remotely intimate about it. This was just two people—two acquaintances really—who were testing out the waters of friendship and certainly _not_ a date of any kind. What a preposterous notion.

 

She stuttered. “I- I should be going now. It was nice meeting you Hawke and Isabela. And I will see you on Thursday, Varric.”

 

She hated feeling flustered. The cool, late-afternoon air was calling her, promising to lessen some of the embarrassment she felt with it's chill. She should go. Turning to leave, she was caught by broad fingers wrapping gently around her wrist.

 

“Hey Seeker, wait a minute. Since you're going my way, why don't we walk together?” He murmured, soft like the purring of a cat. She turned and her heart lept into her throat.

 

“Please?” His eyes watched her, entreatingly. _Fade take him... is he flirting with me? No, he couldn't be. It's probably just my imagination... which is entirely possible, given my recent obsession._

 

It wouldn't have been so hard to feign indifference but with his hand lightly wrapped around the pulse point of her wrist, stroking the sensitive skin with the rough pad of his thumb, he made it extremely difficult. His touch was lighting a fire in her veins. The heat of it slowly stoking the embers of desire low in her belly. _Blast and Damnation! He is, for all intents and purposes, the bane of my existence! He should not be able to make me feel like this—I cannot possibly be entertaining such a thing! He is still a liar and a snake, regardless if he has shown a kinder side this afternoon. I will not allow myself to fall for someone less than honourable. I deserve that much._

 

She scowled and slid her hand from his grasp, rubbing where his fingers had been moments before—a tingling feeling still present, long after his skin had left hers. “Alright Varric. I will wait. But be quick, I've got things to do.”

 

“Good. Just let me pay for the drinks and grab my stuff. Be back in a sec.” He said as he walked past her, his expansive shoulders shrugging on the worn leather of his coat.

 

He returned moments later to gather his things into his bag. “All set?”

 

She nodded at him.

 

“after you, Seeker.”

 

She felt his large hand at the small of her back as he motioned for her to lead. The touch, no matter how slight, had started another chain reaction—heart pounding against her ribs as if she'd ran a thousand miles and her stomach flip flopped with anxious anticipation. This was an incorrigible situation and one she felt was getting worse by the moment. She knew she was becoming hopelessly enchanted, even though reason told her to run fast and as far away from him as possible. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. He just kept on cropping up like a fungus no matter which way she turned. A fungus that was now currently following her out the door.

 

“Obstinate parasite,” she muttered under her breath as she was hit with the cold afternoon air.

 

“What was that?” Varric asked.

 

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

 

 

~TtS~

 

Varric shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he trailed behind Cassandra. Letting her lead the way was one of the best decisions he'd made all week—next to the easy bet with Hawke and Rivani of course. It was a strategic move, one he'd planned well before ending the last round of cards. His chivalry was merely a disguise to hide the real reason he'd allowed her to go first. She was devastatingly beautiful after all, and he, being an admirer of all things beautiful, couldn't help but take some time to marvel the view. And what a view it was.It had been so long since he'd been this attracted to someone. Not since Bianca. Which is why he would not allow himself to fall down that hole again. Looking but not touching suited him just fine. More than fine actually. He watched her walk out the door. Maker, that ass, and her legs—they went for miles! He wondered what they'd feel like wrapped around his wai-”

 

Cassandra muttered something. Whether it was for his ears or herself he wasn't quite certain, as he'd been so preoccupied within his own mind. When he asked her to repeat herself though, she just told him it was nothing. Then, painful silence overtook them.

 

He couldn't believe even after three rounds of Wicked Grace, she was back to acting as flustered as a chantry sister in a brothel. Shouldn't she have mellowed out a little at least, instead of reverting back to her old ways? Anyone else would have, but of course, not her. Never her. There was no way she could allow herself to relax for more than a few minutes at a time. That was the underlying reason he'd constantly tried to rib her into a reaction. No matter how much enjoyment he got from the Seeker's discomfort as he pestered her, the real reason was to make her see that she needed to lighten up a bit and not take everything so fucking seriously. To think that she never allowed herself any fun was just a crime in his books. That's when the idea occurred to him a few months back.

 

He'd decided to make a bet with himself to see if he could crumble the protective wall she'd built, by goading her at every opportunity. Worst case scenario she'd hate him and stop calling into his show. Best case was he'd actually get her to break with tradition and let her hair down for once. But so far, it hadn't worked as well as he thought—although, it hadn't been a total loss either. There were a few times he almost heard a smile in her voice, and once he was certain he had heard her laugh. It was as if the tumultuous relationship between them was starting to show signs of an impending friendship. Until he'd given a bad critique of her recommended novel, of course. And there in which laid the rub; they had headed straight back to square one.

 

Maker, the need to stop the lingering awkwardness was overpowering. Bringing out the bullshit, he hoped it would be enough to goad her into a reaction. “You know, your shorter than I expected.”

 

“And I expected someone with your reputation to be older.” Cassandra bantered back, still as agitated as ever.

 

“What can I say? Talent, fame and rugged good looks—some of us are just blessed.”

 

She made a noise at the back of her throat, but he could swear it was not nearly as harsh as he was used to. And, for a fleeting moment, he had actually caught her smirk, before her stony stare returned.

 

He chuckled at the fleeting expression and with it, the uncomfortable feeling dispersed. What was left could only be described as complacent as they walked side by side. He stole a glance up at her then. Sharp features were outlined by the rays of the winter's sun, making her appear almost ethereal and his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't deny the spark he felt, now it was so blatantly obvious. There was only one problem. He knew she was a woman who very nearly detested everything about him. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was falling into his own traps again, finding someone and wanting them but knowing he couldn't have them. He wouldn't put it past his own feelings to throw a spanner in the works. He always got caught up in things like that and the only one he could blame for that was himself. It would hurt less if he played it safe and wouldn't have to bargain his heart—one that had been broken too many times playing second fiddle and only now was beginning to heal. _Nothing more than friends,_ he promised himself. It was much better that way. He was better off that way.

 

They came up on the street corner where they were going to part ways, and slowed to a stop. “Well, this is me. I'll shoot you a text later with my address. See you Thursday.”

 

“See you Thursday Varric. Oh! Do you wish for me to bring anything?”

 

“Sure. I won't say no to a bottle of something—if you're offering, but don't worry about food. I'll make sure to stock up.”

 

“Right. Well, goodbye.” She offered her hand to him, the awkwardness returning. He looked at it, but didn't take it right away. A small part of him wanted nothing more than to allow himself the privilege of a hug, but thought better on it. It was too bad though. He would have loved to see the colour bloom across her cheeks again as he pulled away. That game he could never see himself giving up—watching her squirm underneath the weight of embarrassment only he could provide. But he'd also be showing his hand if he did that, and that wasn't something he'd willingly give up. Making his mind up, he took her hand and shook it firmly instead.

 

“See you Thursday Seeker.”

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

She watched him with sharp eyes as he crossed the street. He had to be up to something. This was not natural conduct for him, he was being far to nice. That's when she saw him walk up to a sporty gold jaguar. A gold jag that was exactly like the one she had nearly been killed by. That was it—that's what he'd been been hiding. Her blood boiled. He was being nice to her because he'd recognized her and felt guilty about the near accident with his car. Obviously not enough to apologize about it, though. No wonder his expression faltered when he'd first laid eyes on her! _That conniving little shit!_ It was all a facade so he'd avoid getting berated.

 

She was seeing red, she was so angry. Her fists clenched tightly together, fingernails digging painfully into the palms of her hands as she watched him pull away from the curb. Her eyes narrowed to slits as he drove by and waived at her, and she refused to waive back on principle. There was no way she'd even allow herself to be sucked in like that again.

 

 

' ' ' ' '

 

 

Even though Cassandra was still livid about Varric's deception, she kept her plans to visit him. It was duty that made her feel honour bound to go through with it; she needed to confront him about his terrible omission for her own sanity. The need to know why he had chosen the cowards way out, stayed in the forefront of her mind. It was compulsive need to seek out the truth no matter how difficult it ended up being, and it clawed at her—her stomach twisted in knots as she thought about it. She really had expected more from him. Perhaps she shouldn't have, given his usual manner.

 

It was out of the ordinary to feel so disappointed in him though. Normally, she could have cared less. Maybe it was because she could see the potential of a good man just under the surface. There had been a glimpse of it when he'd been forthright with his advice to Duncan. She smiled pensively at the new memory. It had been refreshing to hear him give advice instead of taunting her for once. And he spoke with such fondness about the situation, she coincidentally had felt her heart warm to him. That must have been the reason why she felt so hurt by his oversight. She had thought that they were heading toward—at the very least—friendship, but starting one off with lies did not make for a very stable relationship. What it did do, was put more distance between them. It was if they were taking one step forward for every two, back. She only hoped that this meeting would straighten things out enough so they could move away from this uneasy situation.

 

Her keys felt heavy in her hand as she moved throughout her apartment, grounding her erratic thoughts. If she didn't hurry up, she'd be late. Taking a bottle of Antivan Brandy from the cupboard in the kitchen, she made her way to the door and gave herself one last look in the mirror. Like donning a suit of armour, she steeled her resolve before making her way out the door.

 

The drive over to his apartment was uneventful and she even had a chance to relax with some soothing music to calm her nerves. She had always enjoyed classical music for that reason—it was passionate and full of sound without the distraction of lyrics. Exactly what she needed, now her stomach was stuck in her throat and the blood pulsed in her ears. Nerves, that's all it was. She knew this. But the thought of being in Varric's personal space and noting the attraction she felt for him continued to twist at her insides. She knew that nothing would come of it. With the way he treated her, there was no way he would be interested. He just liked to bother her for his own morbid enjoyment. Not that she had ever been entertaining the idea, of course—not in the slightest. He'd lied to her, after all. That was something she couldn't forgive.

 

Rolling to a stop at the front of his building, she turned of the car and looked up. The moon was big and bright—it cast its rays down upon the street, bathing the area in an eerie glow. Getting out and walking toward the door, she pressed his buzzer. Locking the anxious feelings down into the deepest part of her, she centred herself and tried to focus solely on the task at hand. She would get the truth, one way or another—using force if necessary. Although, she hoped it wouldn't come to that, but with Varric, one never knew. He was a wild card, and she knew anything could happen.

 

A crackling noise pulled her from the depths of her mind. “Hello?” Varric's voice filtered through the intercom.

 

“Hello Varric. It's Cassandra.”

 

“Hey, come on up. I'm on the second storey. Number 205. I'll leave the door open a crack for you, just come on in.”

 

“I'll be right up.” Cassandra tried to keep her voice steady until she released the buzzer. _Andraste preserve me, I am acting like a silly schoolgirl. This is nothing more than a meeting of minds over cards—and one I hope reveals the truth behind his kinder words as of late._

 

The glass door clicked, and she pulled it open. The building itself was tidy, but it had seen better days. Cassandra wondered as she walked toward the elevator, why Varric had chosen this of all places to live. He seemed to be doing quite well for himself, so why had he chosen to live in a tired old building like this, with it's outdated floral wallpaper and it's patchwork carpets.

 

She entered the wood paneled elevator. Pressing the necessary buttons and leaning against the back wall, the door slid closed and jostled to life. It seemed to take forever for her to reach her destination, as it ascended at a snails pace. She drummed her fingers against the wood grain and tapped her foot much too fast for the worn out tune coming over the speaker. Patience was never one of her strong suits.

 

What felt like an eternity later, a tired ding rang out, signifying she had reached the second floor. Straitening herself, the doors glided open slowly and she exited, turning to look down the hall. A sliver of light from his door cut through the dim glow of the hallway—she was nearly there. Feelings warred in her head and heart as she stared in the direction of his apartment. She wanted nothing more than to ignore her need for truth, but she knew she couldn't do that. It would burn her inside out.

 

A deep steadying breath rushed in through her nostrils and out through her mouth. She was ready. Striding purposely toward his door, she sent up a small prayer to the Maker for guidance. She would need all the help she could get.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. 3. Two Steps Forward, One Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to heat up between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this particular chapter has some mashed together banter from the game and some and a little snippet from chapter four of Hard In Hightwown. No copyright intended. These things belong to EA/Bioware exclusively, and are not mine in any way. 
> 
> This is also another unbeta'd chapter most likely has a mountain of mistakes. If anything really bad stands out, please let me know. 
> 
> *author's note* this chapter just kept on growing. It was supposed to only take up a third of the chapter. Ugh. I am such a slave to my muses. They wanted more, and so I let them have their way. It was extremely hard keeping their feelings in check and I had to alternate the POV's quite a bit. Hope it sounds alright.

Cassandra rapped smartly at the door to announce her presence, but found that silence greeted her instead. He had said to just come in, so reaching a hand out, she pushed the door open timidly. Meeting with a living room devoid of Varric, she listened out for his whereabouts. The sound of dishes clinking from another room caught her attention, and she realized he must be in his kitchen. Stepping over the threshold, she closed the door behind her and looked around. The first thing that caught her eye was the mass amount of books tucked up neatly into dark wooden bookshelves that lined his walls. She'd expected this completely, of course. He was a well known author after all, how could she not. Still, it was impressive. She hoped that the opportunity would arise for her to examine some of them later. Moving her eyes from the books to other parts of the living room, she noted it was surprisingly warm and inviting. Her already formed opinions had assumed his apartment wouldn't amount to amount to much; she'd half wondered if it was going to be as obnoxious as he was. It wasn't obnoxious at all. Quite the opposite, really.

 

A soft, creme coloured couch sat on one side of the room with plenty of throw pillows—squares of bronze, rich reds and browns rested haphazardly across the cushions. Sitting across from the sofa were two plush, chocolate brown leather chairs and in the middle, framed by it all was a grand coffee table. It suited him perfectly.

 

Moving further in, she spotted an abundance of photos in frames scattered about the room. Picking one up, she was surprised to see a younger Varric with his arms around a dwarven woman and a man. The woman was embracing him back while she looked on affectionately, and the bearded man had his arms crossed, scowling back at him. His face was covered in hair—half of it braided—all except for the prominent chin that jutted out in disapproval.

 

“My brother, Bartrand, if you're wondering. And that's Bianca.” Cassandra started. She hadn't realized he'd come into the room.

 

“Ah, I was wondering. She's very pretty. And I can see the resemblance now that you have pointed it out. Minus the beard of course.” He was taken. Her heart sank a little, at the realization. She knew that this was always a possibility, even though a small sliver yearned for it not to be true. At least now she could use it to her advantage. It would help her objectify the situation. Aloofness is what she required, and even though she'd often had trouble handling her emotions, this new information would help to brace herself from becoming too attached. She gave a weak smile as she put the frame back in it's place. Best get it over with. “Varric- I'll not beat around the bush. I know why you are being so kind to me all of a sudden. It does not simply excuse what you've already done though.”

 

Varric looked back at her, confused. “Uh, sorry, I don't know what you mean. If you think that I-”

 

She cut him off. “I'm not impressed that you tried to smooth over the fact you nearly killed me with your car, using kindness and this invitation as a band-aid for your gilt. If you are feeling bad about it, just apologize and be done with it, don't hide behind the charade of teaching me a useless card game.”

 

Varric's eyes went wide. “You mean to tell me that _you_ were the woman who stepped out in front of my car a few weeks ago?” He threw his hands up in resignation. “Of course it was you. Damn my luck. Why do these things keep happening to me.” He looked up toward the ceiling as if talking directly with the Maker—a ridiculous show, considering he was always the first to take his name in vain.

 

Cassandra was quickly failing at holding her temper back. “Happening to _you_ ?! You aren’t the one who almost died! And then you drove off like it was nothing to you—telling me to watch where I was going, when you were obviously speeding and that's the real reason why I was nearly hit. I looked Varric- I saw no cars. None. Not until the nose of yours had nearly taken me out.” She hid her hands, crossing her arms at her chest in indignation, trying to stop herself from balling them into fists and punching him. _Maker take him…_

 

 

“Your acting as if I was _wanting_ to hit you! It's not my fault that you jumped out in front of me! At least I saw you and was able to stop in time!” Sighing, he rubbed at his furrowed brow. “You want an apology? Fine. I'm sorry for almost hitting you Cassandra—I really am, but that's not why I asked you over to play this charade of a card game, as you so eloquently put it. To be honest, I had no idea that was even _you_ , not even when we'd met up earlier this week! I invited you because I was trying to be nice. I don't know if you realize this Seeker, but I actually consider you... a friend.”

 

She blanched. His declaration of friendship hit her right in the pit of the stomach—like she'd been punched. A friend? He actually thought her as one? Truly? The idea dragged colour across her cheeks. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? For them to move above the scathing remarks and the caustic arguments? To settle into something much more comfortable and easy? She did, but knew it would take some work on both their parts. Often she would assume the worst of him and throw accusations about without due cause or warning.

 

And Varric?

 

She hoped he would learn that not every situation should be combated with humour or a pun. Yes, the way she delt with him would need to be revised if they were going to head in that direction, but so would the way he treated her—hopefully the change would start with this very dispute. It was a direction she had—without thinking—hoped to go farther than amiable, but she caught herself in time and shook the thought right from her head. This foolish crush had to be put to rest once and for all. He was clearly taken. The evidence was plain as day. Why couldn't she just accept it and move on!

 

“I- Thank you. For the apology.” She offered, wringing her hands and feeling quite contrite. “And I- I am sorry for assuming you'd turn your honest invitation into an underhanded deed. That was unworthy of me. Being friends would be… nice.” Giving a small smile at him, she added “I... believe I started us off on the wrong foot this evening. Perhaps we could try again?”

 

~TtC~

 

Varric gave a lopsided smile at her. “I don't see why not.” Pausing, his eyebrows raised as a notion came to mind. “Here's an idea- go wait in the hall for a minute and knock on the door. I'll open it, and we can start again. How does that sound?”

 

She nodded, and smiled. “I should like that.” Turning on her heel, he watched the sway of her hips as she grabbed the bottle she had brought and walked back out of the room, closing the door behind her. Shit. Keeping things from crossing the line of friendship he'd drawn with Cassandra were going to be harder than he thought. Especially when her ass was moving like a pendulum, nearly hypnotizing him into some bad ideas. Very, very bad ideas… ones that could certainly land him a slap or two if he ever voiced them—thankfully he knew better. There was no way she was into that sort of thing anyways. He could just tell she was the type of woman who wasn't one for one night stands. And, even though he was often portrayed as a flirtatious bachelor with a string of women at his beck and call, he truthfully wasn't much for it either. A groan made it's way up from the back of his throat and he tried to rub the tension now present in his creased brow. Andraste's tits. He really shouldn't be thinking about things like this. What he should be doing was trying to keep his hands and his ideas to himself. For both their sakes.

 

Impatiently waiting for the rapping noise of knuckles against wood, he shifted on his feet hoping she wouldn't keep him waiting much longer. He really didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now, particularly if he was having a hard time distracting himself from thinking how attractive she was. A knocking sound came, just in time. Praise the Ancestors. He walked to the door and pulled it open.

 

“Ah, Seeker! Just the woman I wanted to see! Come in.” Giving a warm smile, he moved to hold the door open, his hand offering her entrance.

 

“Good evening Varric, thank you for inviting me. Here, I hope this is to your liking.” She placed a bottle into his hands, the amber liquid sloshing about like golden waves.

 

He held the bottle up, taking a look at the label. “Antivan Brandy,” his grin widened. “You brought the good stuff for me? I'm flattered! Usually I don't except things like this until the second date.” His smile faltered for a second. Wait, where here the fuck did that come from? How had he let that slip was beyond him.

 

Shit.

 

“W-what?!” A rosy hue coloured Cassandra's olive skin as she stared, wide eyed. Well, that was new. Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, this was getting more screwed up by the minute. Better to say something quick, laying her fears to rest and quell the hope that had just bloomed within his chest by his own hand.

 

“I kid, Seeker, I kid.” He raised his hands up defensively. Fuck, he really could use some alcohol right now. “Drink?” He said quickly, holding up the bottle again, hoping that the change of subject would get them both out of a very uncomfortable situation.

 

“Maker, yes..”

 

He sighed inwardly in relief. “Great. I'll go get the glasses and pour us both some. On the rocks?”

 

“That sounds fine.”

 

He made his way to the kitchen. Once there was some space between them, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh while he planted his hands firmly against the counter top for a moment to steady himself. What in the void was he doing? He needed to reign himself in! Hmm. Maybe if he thought of things he hated, he would stop thinking about Cassandra and subconsciously hitting on her. Let's see… there was caves. He hated those. And if push came to shove, he could always picture Bartrand in a dress. He began to chuckle at envisioning his late brother in a floral frock. That would just about put anyone off. He took another slow breath and when he felt calm enough to do so, he set himself about making the drinks.

 

 

~TtC~

 

 

Cassandra felt a rush of relief come over her as Varric moved into the kitchen. Letting the tension slip out of her shoulders, she moved across the room to his bookshelves she'd eyed earlier. Her eyes scanned the many titles he owned as she traced the spines with her finger. She wondered if he owned copies of his own works. Did authors do that? She began looking in earnest for anything he'd done among the other books. Maybe if she was lucky, she could get him to read one aloud to her!

 

_No!_

 

That was a stupid, _stupid_ idea! She remembered how much of an ass he could be when he found out anything that made her uncomfortable. The consequence for asking would reap with months of material for Varric. And the situation was bad enough as it was, with all the tension sitting between them like a lead balloon. She doubted he would ever let her forget it, if she asked. Best not to stir the pot.

 

“Ah, I see you've taken an interest in my books.” She whipped round, with a book in hand to see Varric grinning at her with drinks for them both, feeling like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

 

“W-what? I mean, yes, I was just looking to see if you had anything decent.” She stammered out, trying to ignore the unintentional double meaning from it.

 

“See anything you like, then?” A half smile crested his lips as he handed her drink over, his eyes sparkling like titanite gems as he glanced at the book in her hand. It made her feel as if a thousand butterflies had taken flight in her stomach. She couldn't deny the attraction she felt now even if she tried. Andraste preserve her! What happened to finding someone who was upstanding, kind and _not_ already taken? She seriously hoped that that the Maker wasn't playing some horrible trick.

 

Taking the glass from him, careful not to bump fingers, she took a nervous sip. The burn of the alcohol slid down her throat and calmed the fluttering in her insides. That was better. She felt the tendrils of control start to slip back into place.

 

“Hey, tell you what. How about we wager a little bet. If I win at cards tonight, I get to read you a passage of the book in your hand. And if you win...”

 

She stole a glance down at the book grasped in her fingers at Varric's words and tried not to let out a gasp. _Hard in Hightown—_ so he did keep his own works after all _._ Well, at least it wasn't _Swords and Shields_. That would have made things impossibly awkward between them. Now if he could only do something about his chest hair… it was more than distracting.

 

She put the book back calmly as she could and turned to face him again. “… You must button up your shirt for the rest of the evening. I find it in poor taste that you flaunt yourself like that. It's deplorable.”

 

“So what you're really trying to say is that my chest hair is distracting. Good to know.” He winked at her.

 

“Ugh! That's not what I meant, Varric! Quit twisting my words!” Her eyes were like daggers as she shot him a look, crossing her arms indignantly.

 

“I'm only teasing! You know, you really ought to lighten up a bit there, Seeker. Not take everything so damn seriously all the time. I mean, I can see the vein in your head popping out and that can't be good for your health.” He chuckled blithely at her disposition, a finger pointed up in the direction of her forehead.

 

“And you—as it would appear—need to realize not everything can be remedied with a joke!” She ground out between her teeth, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

 

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up, “I give. Calm down. Your point is duly noted. I'll try and refrain from making everything a joke. Although, it'll be pretty tough given the present company.”

 

She growled and swatted at him like an angry house cat. “Ass.”

 

“Sorry! Sorry. You make it so easy though, Seeker. I just couldn't resist.”

 

Her eyes rolled and she gave a long sigh. “Well? Are we going to play cards or am I just going to stand here and wait for another insult?”

 

“Now now, don't get your panties in a bunch. If you were hoping for another insult, I'd be more than willing to comply,” he smiled wickedly as her mood blackened even further, “Although, I was under the impression you came here to learn Wicked Grace.”

 

“Get. On. With. It. Dwarf.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Why did he always have to do that? Was it really that hard to be sincere for once?

 

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” He shrugged and motioned her with a wave of his hand “Cards are this way. I've got everything set up at the table.”

 

She followed him into hid dining room, glass still clasped in her long fingers. Finding a seat she began to play with the rim of her glass, absentmindedly. He had said he would read to her if he won—which at this point was a given. But why? Perhaps it was because he was still upset about her calling them trash and wanted to redeem himself by reading some to her, regardless of what he'd told her in the Herald's Rest. Little did he know she'd already done that with Swords and Shields and had attempted it with Hard in Hightown too. She'd only had a chance to read a few chapters though. A thought occurred to her. What if he decided to pick a spot she hadn't read yet? And out of sequence? It would most certainly ruin the plot for her. She couldn't allow that to happen—there were too many variables.

 

Panic set in.

 

“I've read some of your books Varric.” She blurted out. “And I was wrong. They are not trash. Quite the opposite really. I find them...” She rubbed her brow in frustration, trying to find the right words. “Ugh- I find them… enjoyable.” Keeping her eyes on the drink in her hand, she didn't want to look him in the eyes. The immediate silence was deafening. Maker, she feared it was a mistake.

 

“Oh?” He said after a few moments, intrigued. “And what ones, prey tell, did you find yourself pulled to?”

 

“Well… I _have_ read some of Hard in Hightown—up to chapter three to be exact. But that was not the first one that had caught my eye. It was… it was Swords and Shields.” Sweet Andraste this was embarrassing. Her eyes lowered to her fidgeting hands below the tabletop, disguising the blush that had now become a constant upon her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

 

“What?” He scratched his head. “Seriously? Swords and Shields? How did you find that serial? Scrape it of the bottom of a garbage bin in Dust Town?”

 

She looked up to see the astonishment written all over his face, mirroring her own. “I can't believe you picked the absolute worst of my books to read. I mean, the last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink.”

 

_Swords and Shields was his worst serial? He had to be kidding! Surely he didn't think it was that bad! She'd found it to be riveting and unquestionably romantic. How could he possibly think that it was trash?_

 

His broad frame moved toward her and he sat down heavily, the motion stirring the ice cubes in his drink around noisily, as he placed it on the table.

 

“It was research! I regretted the remarks about your literature after our argument about your books… so, I stopped off at the book store to see if I could find anything of yours to read. That was the only one I could find!”

 

“You obviously weren't looking hard enough then, and here I thought you were supposed to be good at finding things,” he uttered, unimpressed. “Alright, let me have it. I know you're dying to tell me how bad I did.”

 

“A-Alright. I shall tell you what I think. But first you have to promise me you will not laugh or joke about it. I will not stand to be ridiculed.”

 

He nodded.

 

Downing her liquor in one long swallow, the warmth of the alcohol's burn making it easier to live with embarrassment. Pouring herself another, she griped the bottle with more force than she needed, her knuckles white to stop herself from shaking. She'd need all the liquid courage she could get. _Maker, why had she decided to tell him again?_

 

“I thought it was terrible and… _magnificent_.” She breathed the words out in a sigh, still keeping her eyes glued to her glass as she set it back down on the table. Now that the truth was out—no matter how embarrassing it was—she actually felt herself relax a bit. She had always hated keeping secrets.

 

“Really? You liked it that much? And I honestly thought you and I getting along was the weirdest thing that could happen.”

 

A noise made its way up from the back of her throat as she looked at him pointedly. “Yes, Varric. I liked it that much—why is that so difficult to believe? Do you think I am not capable of finding romance enjoyable, just because I am blunt and self-righteous?”

 

He groaned. “That's not what I meant, Seeker. I'm just surprised, is all. I had you pegged as someone who would find Hard and Hightown to be their first choice.”

 

“Well, I _would_ have enjoyed it more if you hadn't killed my favourite character in chapter three. I was so furious, I threw the book across the room! I still haven't the heart to pick it back up yet. And speaking of things that are infuriating, you left the last issue of Swords and Shields as as a cliffhanger! How could you leave it like that when it was clear that the Knight-captain had been falsely accused! I need to know how it ends! Wait! Are you working on the next one?! You must be!” Forgetting herself for a moment, she turned to him and placed her hand upon his forearm in excitement, the heat from the contact sending a spark skipping along her veins until it ignited something low in her belly. Startled by the immediate reaction within herself, she jerked her hand back as if she'd been shocked and a rosy glow washed over her cheeks as she cast her eyes downward.

 

Giving him a sidelong glance, she watched his gaze as it made its way from the spot her hand just left to her face, his eyes wide as if he'd stumbled upon something. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn there was a slight colour in his cheeks too. Perhaps she'd gone too far. She needed to provide a distraction quickly.

 

“Cards. Weren't we going to play cards, Varric?” She shakily slid the pack over to him, hoping he would just ignore the interaction altogether.

 

He shook his head, as if to clear cobwebs from his thoughts. “Uh, yeah. Cards. Right.”

 

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

Well, _shit._

 

He'd seen this type of behaviour before. Fuck, he'd even acted this way with Bianca when they'd first met.

 

Cassandra was interested in him.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Well didn't this just complicate things in a brand new way. He didn't know what was worse, knowing of his own interest in her or discovering she had feelings for him. There was no way that it would end well if things went any further. No way. They were much too volatile to even think about trying to be more than friends. And even then it was a stretch. This new information was highly flattering, but he wouldn't be swayed on his decision to leave things as they were.

 

Unless she made a move, of course. Then he could play it off as it being her fault. She'd be the instigator and the responsibility would be all on her. And he wouldn't feel terrible for starting something he knew he couldn't finish. It would save him the trouble of getting too invested, like he was prone to do. A perfect solution, really.

 

 

“Alright. So, I've delt us both five cards. Now, we're both going to lay our cards out and you're gonna tell me who would win, 'kay?”

 

He watched as she nodded sternly, concentration making her brow furrow.

 

 

' ' ' ' '

 

“No, no. Let's try this again, shall we?” He grumbled as his hand slid over the ridge of his brow. Maker, this was frustrating. It was the third round of cards he'd played against her, and still she hadn't retained anything that he'd taught.

 

“I still do not get how a pair of Angels and a pair of Songs does not beat your three Knights, Varric. I have two sets of two! And you only have one set of three! This makes no sense!”

 

“Look,” He said with a groan, getting up and moving to look at her cards over her shoulder. “it's not about how many suits you have, it's about how many cards you have in that suit, Seeker. And you really should try harder on concealing your feelings during future card games. I was able to tell what you had before you even said it. Your face as an open book!”

 

Her eyes were on him the minute he was behind her, showing the difference between their cards. He could sense it. Ancestors, why had he decided to move so fucking close to her anyways? Every touch of his chest against her shoulder was sending sparks flying across his skin and he had to stop himself a few times while giving his explanation from saying fuck it and kissing her right then and there. It was becoming unbearable. He should do something—pull away, stand up, do anything to put some space between them before he did something he regretted.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

His voice rolled out against her cheek; the warm air of it ghosted over the scar that was laid to rest there, as he showed her the difference between their cards.

 

Maker's breath, he was close.

 

So close, she could smell the spice of his aftershave and feel his chest gently brushing against her shoulder as he leaned in. She stole a furtive glance at him. Viewing him this close up gave her opportunity to study his features in minute detail. The strawberry-blond hue of his whiskers glinted in the warm light of the dining room, and the scar on his crooked nose was stained a similar colour to his moving lips. Words must be coming from his mouth, she was sure of it, but whatever he was saying she couldn't hear it over the blood rushing through her ears and the galloping beat of her heart. He was mesmerizing; she felt the cold steel of control begin to crack. His lips looked so soft and welcoming and all she would have to do is move a few inches and their mouths would press against each other. She could just imagine the way his stubble would scratch at her cheeks, and how his tongue would taste against her own. It sent a shiver down her spine.

 

“Something wrong, Seeker?” Varric asked, jolting her back to the present.

 

Sweet Andraste, she'd been caught staring.

 

“I- uh no. Nothing is wrong,” She feigned nonchalance and turned back to her cards, hoping it would be enough, although the heat radiating from her face told her otherwise. “I think I get it now. Another round. Just to be sure.”

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

“So you've only gotten up to chapter three, huh? Well, I suppose I could start on chapter four, although I'm rather fond of starting a story from the beginning… _But_ since you've already beat me to it, I'll let it slide this time.” Varric chided playfully while he flipped through the pages, watching Cassandra perch herself on the couch with a throw pillow in her lap, eyes wide with excitement. “Now, do you need a refresher on the last bit of chapter three, or am I alright to just jump right in?”

 

The telltale disgusted noise made it's way up her throat and he smirked at it. “I remember what happens Varric. Just get on with it.”

 

“Alright Seeker, suit yourself.” He cleared his throat. “Chapter four. Donnen Brennokovic didn't stand on ceremony. He strode through the barracks and slammed open the door to the captain's office without so much as a nod to the guards he passed. Just barely dawn, and already Captain Hendallen was buried behind a mountain of paperwork taller than the Vimmarks. All Donnen could see...”

 

He continued to read her another two chapters, making sure to add plenty of hand gestures and different voices. He could tell Cassandra seemed to like it immensely; she appeared to become more and more enraptured as the story went on. Who knew that she'd actually feel bad enough after their spat to go and read his novels. Not only that, but end up liking them too. Will wonders never cease?

 

 

' ' ' ' '

 

 

Cassandra stood at the door. “Thank you Varric for a wonderful evening. It surprised me. I did not expect it to be as entertaining as it was.”

 

“I know how you feel. When you came in here all sharp edges and hard-nosed about me nearly hitting you with my car, I figured that was the end of it—but I'm glad it wasn't. I had lots of fun.”

 

“I am glad we've gotten past that. And thank you for reading some of Hard in Hightown to me. As much as I am still upset over my favourite character, you reading it aloud has made up for it somewhat. I can see why people like when you tell your stories on the air.”

 

“Hey no problem. So, you up for doing this again sometime? I don't necessarily mean cards, but something else?”

 

“Yes, we should do this again,” Cassandra offered her hand to him. “I would like that.”

 

He took it gracefully, her slender fingers slipping through his broad palm, clasping them together. The feel of her smaller hand against his own sent a warmth running through him like he'd never known before. It felt right.

More than right. It felt as if he never wanted to let her go and even though he knew he couldn't grant himself complete surrender to his feelings, maybe he could allow himself one tiny concession.

 

Instead of giving her hand a firm shake like he would have normally done, he opted to turn her hand toward him and brush his lips against her knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture. He was rewarded with a gasp as his lips touched the warmth of her hand, sending a shiver to run through him like ice water. Well worth it indeed.

 

 

His eyes flicked up at the noise and a smile grew between his lips as he lifted them from her hand and let it go. Her eyes were wide and a blush creeped up her neck and across her cheeks. It was a stunning sight, one that would etch itself into his memory, and he smiled warmly at the thought.

 

“Goodbye Varric.” She said, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it before.

 

“Goodbye Seeker, and thanks for coming. I really enjoyed myself tonight.” He held the door open for her as she walked over the threshold, turning before he'd completely closed the door to give him a diminutive wave of her hand. Then, she was gone.

 

With the door clicking shut, he braced himself against it and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Boy, was he in way over his head. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, the feelings were coming fast and hard.

 

 _Fuck_. He was in trouble now.

 


	5. 4 - Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Cassandra are enlightened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again this is unbeta'd work and is being edited on the fly. Any errors are all mine. Ifyou happen to notice any obvious ones, please feel free to let me know.

Varric couldn't sleep.

Seven damn nights since the card game. Seven fucking nights since he'd realized what she did to him and what he was doing to her. His thoughts were rocks tumbling around in his brain and try as he might to push them away, they were intent on crushing him.

“Fuck,” he grumbled and threw back the covers abruptly. Placing his bare feet upon the frigid wood floor, his own hands raking through his bedraggled hair. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her—the sharp angles of her face giving way to deep walnut hazel eyes. Her ebony hair, cropped short. The curve of her hip as she walked. Her strong yet elegant hand wrapped within his own. Her noticeable Nevarran accent ringing through his ears like a chime as she said his name.

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to deal with this, no matter how much he was against it.

Bones creaked and protested as he pushed off the bed and moved toward the fridge in the inky darkness. Ancestors, he needed a drink. He opened the fridge and peered inside, the helter skelter noise of bottles clinking as he moved things around to find what he was after. There had to be a beer in there somewhere.

Groping at the back of the near empty fridge, Varric pulled the brown bottle of ale out and twisted off the bottle cap; he flicked in the direction of the counter top where it chinked noisily against the laminate surface.

Beer now in hand, he pushed the fridge door shut and moved to the living room. Letting out a sigh, he flopped down among the comfy cushions of his couch. Shit. Coming to the realization she was interested had only made things worse. He was completely lovesick now. No denying that. His fingers felt for the lamp switch. Flicking it on, the soft light bathed the room in a warm glow and the picture of himself, Bartrand and Bianca caught his eye. He pulled it close and stared at the three fresh faces, so much younger than he was now. A sad smile ghosted over his lips as he took a swig from his bottle of ale and placed it on the coffee table.

Long gone were the simple, carefree days of that photo. Bartrand was gone, Bianca had jilted him for whatshisname... and here he was, sitting on the couch alone and pining for a woman who would no doubt break his heart... if he'd let her.

That was the question, wasn't it?

Could he let her in even if he knew she'd eventually grow tired of him? He knew it was inevitable. She would leave for something better. They always did. But could he be strong enough to let himself be happy now at the cost of the hurt he would no doubt feel later on. Would it be worth it? Moments stretched out like a blanket as he deliberated.

Cassandra was headstrong and brash and much to serious for her own good. But that's what he liked about her—she was truthful to a fault and he always knew where he stood with her. There was no deceit or lies. No games, just her. It was quite refreshing, honestly. Not many people he knew could claim to be so forthright. It was an interesting thing, to find yourself having feelings for someone who was your exact opposite. And the more he thought about their differences, the more he realized that they complimented each other completely. Maybe he was making things more complicated than they had to be. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he allowed himself a bit of happiness either.

 Bianca was clearly happy with whatshisface, so why should he continue to shy away from love? Why was he intent on abstaining when there was no reason to anymore? The pain she caused was his main excuse, but it had been nearly two years and it wasn't like he was terribly heartbroken over it anymore. There was enough distance between them now, that he felt he'd refuse her if she ever tried to come back into his life. She had chosen her path, and that was one without him. Her loss really. Her loss... and his gain. The thought was empowering. He could do whatever he damn well pleased, now his heart wasn't snagged on the thorn of hurt Bianca had caused. For the first time in as long as he could remember, He was someone's first choice. Cassandra wanted him, and there was nothing or no one standing in his way, overshadowing him. Well, none except himself, but he was working on remedying that.

Placing the photo back on the shelf, he clicked off the light and shuffled back to his room. A feeling of contentment finally settled over him and he gave a long, drawn out yawn while he fiddled with the covers. Within minutes, Varric fell into deep, peaceful sleep.

 

~TtS~

 

“Leliana, I am not a child! I can assure you everything is fine.” Cassandra huffed, her tone more acidic than she intended.

Leliana looked at her friend, unimpressed. “Cassandra, how long have we been friends? Don't disgrace our friendship by lying to me.”

“Who says I am lying?” She retorted, cocking an eyebrow in Leliana's direction.

“Because you are a terrible liar for one,” Leliana quipped back as a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Cassandra rolled her eyes, and her smile broadened into a mischievous grin. “and two, how could I have not noticed something was going on when you've been unbearable for more than a week now. Why, you nearly took Josie's head off when she bid you good morning, today. Now tell me, what has you so up in arms?”

A noise clambered up the column of her throat. “It is no interest to you, I'm certain.”

Leliana's brow arched in curiosity, but still held Cassandra's gaze, expecting an explanation whether she wanted to give one or not.

It was an amazing feat Leliana had, to be able to pull things from her only with a look. It also was extremely unnerving.

Cassandra sighed heavily, resigning to Leliana's curiosity. “I have found myself in a predicament,” she admitted, feeling her neck and cheeks to grow warm. “I may have found myself having... feelings for someone. Of the romantic sort.” Her hands worried themselves in front of her lean frame, trying to gauge just how much to tell her closest friend.

Surprise cast itself upon Leliana's face as her eyes twinkled with delight. “Oh, Cassandra! That's wonderful news! You must tell me everything!”

Cassandra glared at her sudden outburst. “Would you mind keeping your voice down! I do not want this being spread throughout the station!" She hissed, trying to convince her to regain her usual tact.

Leliana laughed at her prickly demeanour but seemed to catch the hint, regardless. “Come. My office is closest. We can chat there without the worry of any ears listening in.”

They walked quickly toward the small room, her face painted with an eager smile as she made her way down the hall. That made Cassandra only scowl more. It was like Leliana enjoyed seeing the torment that was warring inside of her. This was no joyous matter. Not where she was concerned.

Leliana walked in and took a seat behind her desk, and Cassandra closed the door, resting upon the hard wooden frame for a moment, wondering how she had fallen for Leliana's tricks yet again.

“So?” Leliana questioned, her voice burning with interest as she leaned on her forearms. Her fingers folded themselves together on the strong wooden desk as she waited for her friend to divulge her secret. 

Cassandra immediately felt like a caged animal, pacing back and forth anxiously. The words completely eluded her as she tried to explain. Perhaps she should approach it like ripping off a band aid—the quicker she got it out, the less painful it would be. There was no time for tact or proper contemplation. She should let it out and be done with it.

Turning to face Leliana head on, she squared her shoulders and stared intently at her. “Varric. He's the one I've begun to have feelings for—Maker knows why though.” She returned to pacing between the walls of Leliana's office and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I cannot fathom how I became so attracted to him. He's presumptuous and seedy and irritating beyond belief. Reason dictates I should be feeling anything but adoration toward him, and yet, I can't seem to keep it at bay.”

Leliana had remained silent as she spouted out her rant, but was anything but stoic. Her eyes glittered with impish intention and her smile was as fierce as Cassandra's temper.

Cassandra was beginning to regret letting Leliana in on her secret with the look she was giving her. Embarrassment quickly took over and she found herself panicking. “Whatever you do, don't tell Varric,” She pleaded and flopped down upon a vacant chair in surrender. Her hands shivved themselves in the hair at her forehead in grievance, her fringe spiking out between her slender fingers.

“Well, well, well. This is an interesting dilemma,” Leliana said, intrigued, as her hands steepled to hide her softening face. “So you like Varric...,” she hummed thoughtfully. “has he shown any reciprocated feelings?”

Cassandra balked. “Of course he hasn't! I doubt he even suspects I have any feelings for him except those of disgust and irritation,” She shook her head, feeling completely ridiculous. “It doesn't matter anyway, as he already has someone dear to him. Her name is Bianca, for what it's worth.”

Leliana's eyes quirked up at that. “Oh really? Hmm. That's news to me. You see, I have it on good authority that they have been separated for quite some time. Bianca had slighted him in the most terrible of ways, or so my love tells me. Arabella related it to me in confidence one evening over dinner. She had overheard talk that Bianca had left him for another man and even went as far as marrying the other dwarf while continuing to string Varric along. Finally, Varric had enough and put a stop to their affair. Not that it was public knowledge, mind. It was kept secret from most of their colleagues, but Arabella is almost as good as I am with prying information from people—It's part of her charm. I believe that was... oh, about two years ago now, if I remember correctly.” She leaned back in her chair and grinned up at Cassandra with an overabundance of mirth.

Cassandra's worked her jaw, dumbfounded. “So you mean to tell me, he isn't involved with anyone? Are you certain?”

“As far as I can surmise. Although, if you need me to be sure, I can always ask.”

“No, that's quite alright. Your Arabella does not have to become involved. I was just surprised to find he was not actually with her. He has pictures of her still present in his apartment.”

“Maybe he's having a difficult time letting go? Love scorned is a vicious thing that clings to us long after it has any reason to. Why, he probably would be married to her now if she hadn't abandoned him at the altar on her family's wishes. That type of spurn does not leave a person.”

The full weight of Leliana's words hit her like a battering ram. Bianca had run off and left him standing at the altar all because her family disagreed with her choice? If she were put in the same position, she would have outright ignored her family's wishes and went with what she felt in her heart. And she had no doubt that would mean marrying for love instead of allowing relatives to make that decision for her.

“She was to be his intended? Truly? And she fled before they were to say their vows all because of her parent's disapproval? What a cowardly thing to do! How could she allow them to make that decision for her!” Cassandra huffed, scowling at nothing in particular as she folded her arms across her chest with force.

Leliana snickered. “Well, not everyone is blessed with your iron will, Cassandra. And for all we know, there may be more to that than meets the eye—it's more than likely there is an unknown reason for her choosing to leave him and not just the obvious speculation. However, there is no sense in getting angry with someone's past actions. What's done is done, and we cannot change the past... what we must do now, is plan for the future.”

A wicked smile passed over Leliana's features and she rose from her seat with purpose, as if she had all the answers tucked into her back pocket. “I just so happen to have such a plan. But before I divulge my intentions to you, you must assure me you will be open to anything I suggest. I know how stubborn you can be when faced with something you dislike, and I need to make sure you will allow for some leniency. I promise you it will be worth it.”

An uneasy feeling swam in her gut. To say she was a little suspicious was the understatement of the year. But, Leliana was her closest friend, and she had never steered her wrong before.

“Oh, alright. I will try. I am not making any promises though.” She warned.

“That is all I ask, my friend. Now, can you meet me back here in an hour? I need to make some phone calls first, before I let you in on the plan.”

“I suppose I can find something to preoccupy my time. I will see you in an hour.”

 

' ' ' '

 

“So what is this plan you have?” Cassandra said, as she pushed through the door of Leliana's office.

Leliana took a deep, steadying breath. “I have one question before I tell you. Do you wish for things between Varric and yourself to become romantic?”

“I know I shouldn't,” Cassandra admitted, “but I do.”

“Then I shall try my best to aid you in this romantic endeavour of yours.” She smiled up at Cassandra, her eyes soft with the kindness of friendship. “Love is one of the Maker's greatest gifts and nothing to be ashamed of. I am glad you've found someone worth your time. You deserve a piece of happiness, my friend.”

Cassandra smiled warmly back at Leliana. “Thank you for listening and trying to help as I am impossibly bad at these types of things. It... it is a relief to have someone there to help, such as you.”

“You're very welcome,” Leliana reached out and squeezed her hand gently. “Now, on to my brilliant idea. I want us to take a drive somewhere. It's not far, but I do ask one thing—I need your full co-operation when we get there. No backing out or running away.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Haven't I already said I would? What has gotten into you, Leliana? You are starting to make me feel uneasy.”

“I just wanted to re-affirm before we go. Oh! Another question for you. Varric and yourself are both going to the radio awards ceremony this year, yes?”

“We are to be presenting an award together, in fact.” Cassandra confided.

“Good. That will make things easier.” Leliana smirked.

Cassandra couldn't take it anymore. She needed to know what she had up her sleeve. “Out with it, Leliana. I must know this plan you've concocted,” she demanded, as they walked through her door and down the halls toward the exit, becoming tired of the games she was playing. 

“I promise to tell you, but not until we are in the safety of the car. You said so yourself, you wish for no one to spread any gossip about you. And this would bring you plenty of gossip.”

“Fine...” Cassandra uttered. What had Leliana so cautionary? Was she going to take her to Varric's station to confess her love or something? She certainly hoped it wasn't so drastic a measure as that.

They pushed the glass doors open and jaunted together in the direction of Cassandra's car. The wind was light and the weather even more so. Cassandra was relieved that the weather had stayed decent for once; she hated walking in inclement weather.

Reaching the car, they both slipped easily inside, and she turned to Leliana, locking eyes. “Alright, we are now in the car. You may finally let me in on your plan.”

Leliana let out a long sigh. “You wish to let your feelings be known to Varric, right? Well, I thought you might be able to accomplish that at the awards ceremony. All the formal attire and the dancing would be so romantic, it would be the perfect place to admit your feelings.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” Cassandra mused, “But why do we need to take a drive? I don't see a connection.”

“Well...,” Leliana hesitated, “If you are going to do this right, you will need some attire that will knock the socks off of our dear storyteller. And I know just the man to help. He's an up and coming designer from Tevinter. I met him on my show last year, and we've become fast friends. He's wonderful, you'll love him.”

So, Leliana was taking her to a designer to have some formal attire made for her. That was her reason for being so hesitant. It all made sense now. But it also meant she would most likely have to wear a dress. She hated dresses. They were for dainty young women with willowy bodies to flounce around in at parties, and not made for someone as practical as her. The dresses she usually saw were either too short with the fabric looking as if it were painted on, or to long, with the person nearly drowning in it. She would most certainly put up a fuss if they were to make her try anything on like that.

“I hope you are right Leliana, because you know what will happen if I don't.” Cassandra warned.

“Now Cassandra, you promised!” Leliana protested.

“I said no such thing. I said I would try and co-operate; it won't be my fault if he irritates me to the point of leaving. You cannot hold me prisoner just to get me to try on a few dresses.”

Leliana grimaced. “I can't force you to stay, Cassandra but I urge you to try and stick it out. You might be surprised.”

“I would have kicked you out of the car already, if I wasn't intent on trying, Leliana.” Cassandra deadpanned.

“Good. I would hate to be thrown out in the middle of traffic.” Leliana quipped back, which earned a chuckle from Cassandra. “Right, I guess I should give you directions, if we are to set this plan in motion. It's 9-17 Vyrantium way.”

Cassandra nodded and the leather of the steering wheel creaked under her fingers as she gripped it; the engine roared to life and they rolled slowly to the exit of the parking lot she'd been parked in. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. With the help of Leliana, she was about to execute a plan to tell the man of her heart's desire how she felt—even if she was still confused at how it all came about. It was complete madness. She couldn't believe she was going to confess her feelings to Varric, and yet, she looked forward to it with great anticipation. Leliana was right about coming clean at the awards ceremony though, Cassandra couldn't deny its romantic overture and how it seemed the perfect place to let her feelings be known. All she wished for now, was for Varric to take the feelings she had for him seriously. Her biggest fear was that he'd play her confession off as a joke and ridicule her for them—which would tear her heart in two. Her pulse raced and blood rushed through her ears as she thought about it while driving down the street, toward their destination. There was no doubt that she wanted to go through with this, but it didn't make it any less nerve wracking. Putting her heart on her sleeve was one thing, but actually showing it to another without knowing if it would be cared for or ripped apart was another matter entirely.

They pulled to a stop outside the address Leliana had given her. A grand building with showy architecture stood in front of them and Cassandra looked up to marvel at the place. It was sleek but extravagant, and it triggered her mind into wondering if the designer she was to meet, matched the building in personality. A large sign hung above the door dictating the name of the shop within—PAVUS it read, in flashy greens, blues and golds.

“Shall we?” Leliana suggested, bringing her back out of her pondering.

“Yes, lets.” her hands pushed the car door open and she got out of the car. They walked side by side up to the door and Leliana held it for her so she could enter first.

A man sauntered forward, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit with his arms open toward them.“My dear Leliana! How good it is to see you again! I must admit, I was delighted to hear your voice on the other end of by phone this morning. It's been far to long.” Leliana smiled and embraced him gently, both of them kissing each cheek in the custom of the Imperium.

“It has been too long, Dorian. Business has been good, I take it?” Leliana queried.

“Quite. Although I must admit, Ferelden's wealthy elite don't seem to know what proper fashion sense is... and for that matter, neither do you,” he pulled back, using a keen eye to condemn her clothing choice. “What in the void do you have on? That hood does absolutely nothing for you. I simply can't fathom how you can claim to know all about fashion on your radio show, when you show up here looking like a stable hand. Please, let me find you something to wear before you embarrass yourself... or worse, me.”

Cassandra could tell his barbs were non lethal by the way his eyes remained soft and his gentle smile while he taunted Leliana. It was a curious thing to watch. She had not met many others who were friends with Leliana. That was mostly on her own shoulders, though. She often declined invitations to parties and outings unless it was unavoidable. Not that she didn't know how to enjoy herself, but the frivolity of it made her look for other means of entertainment; she didn't enjoy the loud music the bars played or the hordes of men who were only after one thing. She'd rather stay home with some wine and a book.

“I could say the same for you. What were you thinking? Pinstripes are so last year... and that cravat is terrible. A bow tie would have suited you better.” Leliana teased him back, playfully.

Dorian grimaced. “Truly? A bow tie? How can you even suggest that! Wait, did you bump your head this morning by chance? You must have, for you to be suggesting so deplorable.” He glanced over, and did a double take in Cassandra's direction, and Leliana's eyes followed.

Realizing she hadn't introduced her friend, Leliana spoke up. “Dorian, I would like you to meet Cassandra Pentaghast—the Seeker of Truth.”

“So this is the woman, you were talking about. A pleasure, I'm sure.” He took Cassandra's hand within his own and pressed a gentlemanly kiss upon her knuckles, producing a faint blush to creep across Cassandra's cheeks. “Welcome. I'm Dorian Pavus, founder of PAVUS clothing and fashion designer extraordinaire.” He gestured grandly as if Cassandra should know who he was. She didn't, of course, which made Dorian's smile falter for a moment and then slide his gaze in question to Leliana.

“She doesn't? How can this be!” Dorian protested.

“Because I do not find anything enjoyable about extravagant clothing. I'm more the type to pick clothing based on it's functionality or comfort, rather than how it looks on me.” Cassandra said, outspokenly.

“Now that is a shame,” Dorian's words were filled with remorse, “considering how stunningly beautiful you are. I'll have you know you're doing yourself no favours by choosing clothing like that. You have so much untapped potential, it's regrettable that you don't use it to your advantage. Have no fear, though. I will take on the mighty task of enlightening you, and after you will look like a goddess.”

Cassandra wished she could pound the ego out of him at that moment. She was here to find herself some formal attire which would take Varric's breath away, not be taught on how he thought how she should dress. It made her cringe inside. Cassandra only hoped that he came up with something that matched her tastes and not some outrageous dress that she would feel completely uncomfortable in. She smirked. Dorian would surely have his work cut out for him.

Cassandra gave a brief smile.“It is good to meet you Dorian. I assume Leliana has told you why we are here?”

“Yes, of course. You're in the market for some devastatingly gorgeous formal wear... formal wear that cries femme fatale and will have a certain someone at the radio awards ceremony on his knees, begging to know you better. Well, Cassandra, look no further, you've come to the right place. I am, after all, the best in the business.” Dorian flashed a winning—if not self serving—smile at her.

She groaned. “How nice,” Cassandra deadpanned, “can we just get on with it? I hate just standing around like this.”

“All right, all right. I can see you're brimming with excitement at the prospect of formal wear,” He smirked in Cassandra's direction. “But first, let me just grab my drawing pad and my measuring tape. I'll need to make some sketches of what we come up with and will need to take your measurements. Won't be but a moment.” Dorian hurried away, his expensive shoes making a clacking upon the glossy cement floor as he retreated into his office and quickly came back with the paper and a few pens. “There. Now let us begin, shall we?” He motioned for the ladies to fallow him through his studio. The space was big, but had been filled with mannequins, fabric swatches in a multitude of colour and an array of designs Dorian had no doubt drawn. A few reticent subordinates were working in different sections as they continued on through, some sewing fabric together, others cutting fabric upon wide tables.

Finally, they found themselves at the back corner of the studio, where a few trendy leather chairs were positioned around a coffee table.

“Please, have a seat,” Dorian offered as he made his way to the coffee station. “Would either of you like an espresso? Or perhaps some tea?”

Leliana nodded. “An espresso sounds lovely, thanks.”

“Thank you, but no. I'll just have a water.” Cassandra's nerves were running overtime and the extra caffeine would only make things worse.

After Dorian had gotten their refreshments ready, he came and sat down across from them, crossing his ankle over his knee and stared intently at Cassandra.

She frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that, Dorian?”

“I'm imagining what you'd look like in a dress, of course. Do you think that I just piece together fabric on a whim?”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “keep wondering. If my uncle couldn't put me in one, neither shall you.”

Leliana gave a hard nudge in Cassandra's side which was met with a glare. “What? I don't do dresses, Leliana. You know that.”

Leliana returned her hard gaze. “Quit being stubborn, Cassandra, and step outside your comfort zone for once. What harm could it do? It's only for one night anyway, why don't you live a little. You never know, it might just aid in your cause.”

Cassandra was stunned into silence, her jaw hanging slack on its hinges for a few moments, until her mind caught up with what Leliana said. “I am not the sort of person who wants to put on airs and float around in some ostentatious gown. That is not me. He should like me for who I am, regardless of what I wear.”

Leliana's face softened. “Of course. I'm not saying he won't. But don't you think you should give our plan every possible chance of succeeding?”

Dorian cut through the conversation with a cough. “While you ladies were clucking at each other like two hens in a chicken coop, I've taken the liberty to come up with a design.”

Cassandra turned. “Oh? What could you have possibly come up with in such a small amount of time and so little information from me?”

He smiled mischievously, turning the sketch toward them. Leliana and Cassandra both gasped in unison. It was gorgeous. Simple and tasteful, it kept to Cassandra's expectations of plain and yet, with the cut and the gold zippered slit, it allowed Dorian's flair to shine through perfectly.

Leliana beamed. “Oh Cassandra, it's exactly what I had pictured on you. What do you think? Would you wear such a thing?”

Cassandra recovered quickly. “I suppose it will do. I am still not happy about wearing a dress, but given a choice, I would pick that over some of the other monstrosities you've got gracing your mannequins.”

“Well that took less time than expected,” Dorian sighed in relief, “I'm glad that it's to your taste. I was worried it would take a week of negotiations, just to come up with something. Now, all I need are your measurements and I can begin working my magic.” With that, he lifted himself off of the chair, took the measuring tape from around his shoulders and motioned for Cassandra to stand up.

She obliged, and slid her leather jacket off of her shoulders to allow for ease of access, placing it upon the seat behind her. “Well? Where shall I stand?” she questioned as the gentle slap of her hands upon her jeans, rang out like a bell.

“Come with me.” He motioned her to follow him to another corner of the studio. This particular nook seemed to be dedicated to the task that Dorian was about to undertake. It was devoid of any seating or fabric, and had only a bare mannequin for company. The figure appeared to be adjustable and she figured that Dorian would no doubt transpose her measurements onto it for later.

“Arms out, if you please,” He commanded, making to grab her arms and lift them straight out at her sides.

Cassandra flinched at his motion. “I am quite capable of moving myself, Dorian. There is no need to get physical.”

Dorian chuckled. “how else am I supposed to do it?”

“Fine. But I hope for your sake you do not have wandering hands.” Cassandra cautioned.

A booming laugh met her ears, startling her. “No need to worry about that, boss. Your not his type.”

A very large and muscular Qunari wandered in, horns nearly scraping upon the ceiling and Cassandra's eyebrows tucked themselves underneath her fringe at his looming presence.

Dorian's face hardened, turning to look at the wall of a man standing behind him. “Vishante Kaffas! How many times have I told you Bull! Don't bother me while I'm working,” he hissed.

Another burst of gravelly laughter shot out of the Qunari. “Like you could ever stop me, Kadan.”

Dorian grimaced. “Excuse us for a moment.” He said tersely, and began pushing the enormous man toward the direction of his office, a chuckle still rumbling around in the Qunari's expansive chest.

Cassandra noted the interaction and came to the conclusion that the near giant must be his partner. Seeing Dorian so flustered hinted that their relationship was new, and he was unsure about how others would take such a pairing. Her heart warmed at their budding romance. She had always seen love as nondiscriminatory, accepting all who wanted to seek it out. It was sad that Dorian felt he needed to hide such a feeling due to others being not so accepting.

Dorian strolled back toward her and even though his manner was all business, she could tell that his eyes were softer for having his lover near.

“Now that that great lummox is dealt with, I can finally get back to the task at hand,” he said, dusting his hands off.

Cassandra smiled at him. “You two make quite the pair. For what it's worth, I think it's wonderful.”

Dorian started at her words. “I- thank you.”

She could see a blush sweep over his olive cheeks as he made returned to the task of measuring her. “No thanks are necessary. I am just glad to see you've found the strength to forge your own path, regardless of what others might say. That takes courage.”

He smirked, feigning nonchalance. “Courage? That has nothing to do with it. I just don't see the point of hiding who I am in fear of offending someone.” He stood and put the measuring tape back around his shoulders and sighed. “There. All done. Now it should take me a few days to get the fabric and pin the basic shape together. I would like you to come back in for a fitting or two, before you need it for the ceremony, of course. That way I can finish off the final touches. It should be ready for you to take home with you the day prior.”

Cassandra nodded. “Alright. I should be able to find the time to stop by again before I need the dress. Is next Wednesday okay with you?

“That should be fine... say one o'clock?”

“One o'clock works well. Thank you for fitting me in. It was nice to meet you Dorian.” Cassandra offered her hand in thanks.

He took it gladly and gave a firm shake. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said, smiling. “Now, you'll have to excuse me, but I am supposed to go for lunch with Bull.”

Cassandra bowed her head in acknowledgement and gave a coy smile. “Of course. I'll just go find Leliana and we will be on our way.”

She walked back through the maze of fabrics, mannequins and grand tables to where Leliana sat perched upon a chair, reading a fashion magazine that was held up between her hands.

Leliana looked up as Cassandra entered the space. “Well, how did it go? Does he have everything he needs?”

“For now, yes. He wishes for me to come back next Wednesday at one for a fitting.”

“Good,” Leliana said, happily, rising to her feet. “May I come with you, again? I would love to get the chance to see him work. He truly is one of the greatest fashion designers of our age, you know.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes fondly. “I suppose. Perhaps it will allow you to actually learn a thing or two about fashion, rather than spouting lies about it.”

Leliana's eyes flickered with surprise for a moment until she saw the smirk that was plastered on Cassandra's face. She'd been joking. “Oh I see. You think I need more instruction do you? Well It's a good thing I have a friend as studious as you, otherwise I would be out of a job for certain.”

Cassandra let out a laugh at Leliana's riposte. “Lucky indeed,” she said, putting her arm around her dear friend. “Now, since my appointment is over, let us go get some food. I am starving.”

They both found their way out of the building with no trouble, stopping on their way out for Leliana to say a quick goodbye to Dorian and Bull.

 _What a whirlwind of a morning_ , Cassandra thought to herself as they both climbed into the car and went to find a suitable place to eat. She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be talked into a dress. Not even her uncle had had the capability to do that. It must have been the fact she wanted to take Varric's breath away which had caused her usual iron will to swing in the other direction. Her heart lept into her throat at the thought. She couldn't wait to be released from the cage of pining she had created for herself. The ceremony was only two weeks away now. Two more weeks and she would bare her sole to a dwarf who—hopefully—would find her as appealing as she found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, if anyone want's to know what Cass' dress looks like, here's the link: 
> 
> http://www.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/201499/rs_634x753-141009140258-634.-bsml-anne-hathaway-jaime-king-versace-dress-100914.jpg


	6. 5 - Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally, they say what needs to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you goes out to Saphir. She offered to beta this chapter for me and now you won't have to deal with my deplorable grammar. XD 
> 
> none of the characters, or in game dialogue are mine. Those belong to EA/Bioware.

Finally the dress was done and Cassandra let out a sigh of relief. She'd been poked and prodded far more than she liked and was utterly done with the entire ordeal. It wouldn't have been so irritating of course, if Dorian hadn't kept pricking her with pins though. He'd blamed her, saying that she was moving too much—a complete fallacy as far as she was concerned. The only reason she had moved was because a pin was being jabbed into her skin. And Leliana had been no help either, only laughing at her obvious discomfort—which only made it worse. She half thought they were both trying to get a rise out of her with it.

 

Now that was all over though; she wouldn't have to spend anymore time on it. Parking her car out front of Dorian's studio for the last time, she stepped out onto the pavement. Slamming the door shut, she moved around the hood of the car to enter PAVUS. The doorbell jingled merrily as she stepped through onto the glossy cement floor and waited for him.

 

Thinking of the esteemed designer seemed to conjure him up from thin air, and he bounded down the steps in another tailored suit to meet her.

 

“How lovely to see you again, Cassandra. Are you you here to pick up the dress?”

 

“You know very well I'm here for that, Dorian. Don't play games.”

 

“Are you sure? Or were you using that as an excuse to come see this beautiful visage again? I often picture it in marble.” He flashed a cocky smile at her.

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I will not dignify that with an answer.”

 

“Oh come now, Cassandra! You still don't like me, after all the time we've been spending together?” Dorian's face wove itself into a ridiculous pout.

 

Cassandra scoffed. “Why does it matter? After I pick up my dress, I doubt we will be seeing much more of each other.”

 

“Not true. We are both friends of Leliana, and naturally that means the chances of us bumping into each other just increased ten-fold.”

 

“Bumping into each other? I cannot see that happening any time soon. I may be close with Leliana, but I do not share her view on frivolous pastimes. I prefer the company of wine and a good book over overindulgent parties.”

 

“Ah! And now we've come to the point in the conversation where we find we have something in common. I too, like wine and books. Perhaps we could do an exchange? I always enjoy finding new novels to read. In fact, I may have a few that would be right up your alley.”

 

“Really? You would lend me your books in exchange for some of mine? That is… remarkably decent of you, Dorian.”

 

He laughed at her surprise. “I knew you'd come around. It was fun to goad you, you get this little knot between your eyebrows. See? There it is. Delightful.” Dorian chuckled in approval as Cassandra scowled at him.

 

“Continue on this path and we'll see if it remains as such,” she warned, but not without a hint of amusement tracing around the edges of her stern voice.

 

Dorian put his hands up in mock surrender and grinned back at her. “You have my word… for now at least.”

 

“Good. Now where is my dress? I am on a tight schedule today,” Cassandra asked, peering around Dorian to see if he had it with him.

 

“Never fear, Cassandra, it's finished, as I said. However, I want to see how the finished product fits you, just as a final check. Your dress is going to showcase my superior design, and I'd prefer to find any flaws now, rather than seeing them in the paper tomorrow. One can never be too cautious, you know.”

 

Cassandra let out a heavy sigh. She really didn't have a lot of time today to be prancing around in a dress, but Dorian had put tireless hours into coming up with something that suited both their styles. Perhaps if she was quick about it, she could get away with it. “Very well, but my time is limited. I need to be out of here in twenty minutes at the latest.”

 

“Then there's no time to waste,” he said as he turned and waved her to follow him, hopping back up the few steps to his studio.

 

She followed him, albeit with much less enthusiasm, into the studio where her dress was hanging markedly upon the mannequin, a striking black streak against the cream tone of the dummy. Dorian moved around where the dress was standing and slipped it off of its home with great care, placing it in Cassandra's arms. She suddenly felt her palms begin to sweat as she stared down at the black fabric pooling in her arms. The reality of what she and Leliana had planned was less than a day away now. It made her stomach flip awkwardly. She raised her eyes back to Dorian, letting a feeble smile work its way around her lips—a momentary show of vulnerability that had found its way out.

 

Dorian, realizing that her nerves were getting the better of her, flashed a reassuring grin and nodded his approval as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “You can do this, Cassandra. You are a strong, fearless woman who is capable of anything, even the trivial task of telling someone you have feelings for them.”

 

Cassandra's jaw clenched at his words, and gave a curt nod. For all intents and purposes, she going into battle, and the dress— _this_ dress—was the armor she would no doubt need, much as she despised the idea of wearing such a thing.

 

Dorian was right. She could conquer these feelings of uncertainty, and complete the task at hand and do it with a confidence she knew she had.

 

He allowed his arms to drift back to his sides, and Cassandra made her way to the change room to disrobe. Moments later, she returned, the dress fitting on her like a second skin. Dorian's eyes lit up like embers, and she turned to look at herself in the mirror. A gasp flew from her lips then and a hand moved to cover her mouth, her eyebrows disappearing underneath the fringe of her side swept hair. No dress had fit her so well in her entire life.

 

“Everyone's eyes will be on you, there is no doubt,” Dorian stated triumphantly, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest as he gestured for her to turn-about.

 

Cassandra did a slow turn for herself as much as for him. She couldn't believe it—head still trying to wrap around how a dress, of all things, could transform her so.

 

“You have truly outdone yourself, Dorian. I never thought a dress could win me over, but it has,” she said, giving herself a once-over in the mirror, moving from side to side to see how it fit over every curve.

 

A loud, drawn-out whistle came from behind them, and Cassandra glanced up to see The Iron Bull making his way into the room, gazing at her appreciatively in the mirror's reflection. “Shit, who's the babe?! Cass, is that you?”

 

“I am not a 'babe', nor do I wish to ever be one, Bull,” Cassandra stated bluntly.

 

“You know Seeker, you shouldn't get so defensive. It was just a compliment.”

 

“Excuse me?” Cassandra questioned pointedly.

 

Bull cocked his head, his good eye giving her a glance, full of scrutiny. “Look, I can tell. Some part of you just wants to cut loose. I can see the frustration in your body language.”

“How odd. Since I am feeling so much _less_ frustrated as of late,” Cassandra bantered back derisively.

 

“Hah,” Bull let out a bark of laughter at her caustic words, “I'd offer to help you get _rid_ of that frustration, but you know, I'm in a _committed relationship_...” He said, putting an arm around Dorian while he glared up at him.

 

“By all means, lets discuss this in my place of business, shall we?” Dorian shot up at the Qunari giant, arms crossed in exasperation.

 

“Oh don't be like that, Kadan. You know I would never do that to you… unless you are into that kind of thing, of course. I never pictured you as a guy who was into threesomes, but hey, I won't object. Actually, it's kind of hot.”

 

Dorian's eyes went wide and he let out a muffled groan, trying to hide his eyes behind the palm of his hand. “Discretion isn't your thing, is it.”

 

“Oh come on now. You know damn well you wouldn't have it any other way.” He flicked his down-turned face upward and smiled joyfully at Cassandra, taking pride in how he could make the Tevinter blush so vividly.

 

She let out a light chuckle at Dorian's embarrassment, thinking how adorable they were together. She hoped her own potential relationship would end up being as half as charming as theirs was.

 

She gave a glance to the watch on her wrist, realizing the time. “I hate to cut this short, but I'm afraid I can't stay for much longer. There are still some errands I need to attend to before the awards ceremony tomorrow night.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Dorian nodded, visibly relaxing at the change in subject. “Let us not detain you any longer. But, before you go, promise me one thing. You'll let us know how your plan transpires—and spare no detail. I want to make sure that my dress was worth every stitch.”

 

“Maybe not _every_ detail, but yes, I will let you know how it goes.” Cassandra threw her response over her shoulder as she made her way back to the change room. Dressing quickly, she slipped out of the dressing closet and found Dorian waiting for her with a garment bag near the door. Sliding the dress into its protective cover, she zipped it up and took it as Dorian handed it to her.

 

“Well, its been quite the experience working with you, Cassandra. I hope that we'll be able to see each other again soon. Oh! And I almost forgot. Here's my card. I've written my mobile number on the back, so you can give me a ring if you've a mind. And don't forget—the book exchange offer is still open,” Dorian said, as he brought Cassandra close and gave a quick peck on each cheek. “We can exchange the books over lunch or something. My treat.”

 

Cassandra smiled at him. “Thank you. I would be happy to accompany you to lunch… and Bull if he's available. Until then, Dorian.”

 

“Until then, Cassandra.” He nodded, holding door open for her as she moved past him and into the cold afternoon air.

 

~TtS~

 

 

Why was he so fucking nervous? It was only a simple phone call.

 

Who was he kidding. He knew damn well why he was nervous. He was calling _her_. Cassandra.

 

 

“Andraste's tits.” He swore under his breath. It had been over two years since he'd done something like this. And this time, there was no need to sneak around, no calling in the middle of the night or meeting in hotels under false names just to see one another. It made him more than a little uneasy. He was so used to hiding things when it came to a relationship, that now he was attempting to start something honestly, it felt wrong for some reason.

 

His hand hovered over the buttons of his mobile, until he noticed how much his hand was shaking. Groaning, he let his hand drop to his side. Shit. Inhaling a deep, calming breath, he tried again, taking his time to press each number with his broad finger so he wouldn't misdial.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Uh, hiya Seeker. It's Varric.”

 

“Oh, hello Varric. How are you? You haven't called into the station in a while, is everything alright?”

 

“What? Oh yeah, everything's good. So...” he faltered, “you ready to get up on stage and present this award together? I can't believe it's tomorrow night.”

 

“Yes, I can't believe it either,” she paused. “What is this all about, Varric? You couldn't possibly have called me just to ask that.”

 

He remained silent for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “Uh, yeah, you’re right. I didn't. I was actually calling to see how you were getting to the ceremony. I mean, you'd probably take your car, of course, but I remember last year that parking was an absolute bitch. There was no parking for three blocks—it was utter madness. So, since we're going to the same place, I thought maybe we could carpool… unless you've already got other plans, that is. Which is fine, of course.” Maferath's balls, he was floundering! Fuck. “I... could always just meet you there. That's probably a better idea, right? Yeah, forget I said any-”

 

Cassandra stopped him in his tracks. “No, I have no other plans as of yet. I was going to ask Leliana actually, but since you've offered, I might as well go with you.”

 

Varric couldn't believe it. “Really?… I mean, yeah, might as well, right? So, when should I stop by your apartment to pick you up?”

 

“Well, the ceremony starts at 7, so why don't you stop by at 6:30? I'll text you my address.”

 

“Sounds good. 6:30 it is, then. See you tomorrow night, Seeker.”

 

“See you tomorrow, Varric.”

 

He hung up feeling lighter than he had in ages. She'd said yes. It was only to hitch a ride with him of course, but her acceptance lit a fire in his veins for her he didn't think he could ever put out now. It put a bounce in his step, and he found himself humming as he walked to his car. There was nothing better than having the opportunity to spend some quality time in the company of a beautiful woman. And, with any luck, he could charm her enough to make a proper date out of it.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

The clock in her living room read 6:00 pm.

 

She had been ready for fifteen minutes, and now the only thing Cassandra could think to do was wear out a path in the floorboards of her apartment with all her pacing. She wrung her hands in front of herself, finding them unusually clammy. “Ugh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered, shaking her hands out in exasperation as she walked to the kitchen to find something to wipe the sweat off. Taking a kitchen towel, she hastily ran her hands over the soft cloth until the slimy feeling was gone from her palms and threw it in the laundry, returning to walking the length of her small home after her task was complete. Maybe if she had a small drink, that would curtail the anxiety she felt. Taking a tiny glass, she filled it with some remaining scotch she had stashed in the cupboard and flung it back unceremoniously, letting the glass slam back down upon the counter. A smooth, smoldering warmth bloomed as it passed through her throat and into her stomach, dampening the skittish feeling that sloshed around in her belly like a tiny boat in the middle of a storm on the Nocen Sea.

 

A blast of air squalled out between her lips while she tried to regain some control over her feelings. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to curb her apprehension.

 

Maker’s breath... this was it. She couldn't turn back even if she tried—she was going to confess everything to him. Up until this point, Cassandra hadn't thought much of when to tell him, only that she was. Perhaps she should think of a scheme to help her decide on when and how to tell him.

 

 _Would the car ride be too soon,_ she wondered, _or would it allow them some a better chance at privacy?_

 

A sigh passed over her lips. It had been too long since she'd done something like this, and she felt completely out of her depth, drowning under the weight of her feelings. She needed to tell him and the sooner she did it, the better. Getting her affection off her chest would help to lessen the sickly oppressiveness of her nerves and allow her to enjoy the night, as she should. Telling Varric before they entered the ceremony was the best plan of action, really. And the amount of privacy it would allow was surely a bonus. She really didn't like it when people flaunted their relationships out in the public eye. It was...well, private and something to be kept close to the heart; if he turned her down, at least the cover of Varric's vehicle would allow her a moment to gather her broken heart before entering the ceremony. Yes, best to tell him in his car.

 

She glanced up at the clock again—6:20 pm. It was almost time. _He should be here any moment._ She walked through the apartment one more time, flicking off lights and checking that she had everything she needed for the evening before coming back to the living room to wait for his telltale knock. She sat down on her couch and to keep her hands busy, she pulled her compact out to give a last minute check that her make-up wasn't smudged. Noting her lipstick had worn off some while she had the drink to soothe her nerves, she rummaged in the classy black clutch she paired herself with and found the tube of lipstick she'd placed in there an hour before. Pulling the cap off with a snap, she smoothed the colour back on while holding the tiny mirror with the other hand. Rubbing her lips together gently to even out the tone, she replaced the cap back on the tube and was about to return them to her bag, when his knock echoed about the apartment. Suddenly, her stomach did a mighty flop, making it feel like she'd been punched in the gut.

 

“Ugh,” she quietly vocalized her distaste for the feeling, getting up and moving toward the door to open it. As soon as the door was ajar, her breath left her in a rush. Varric was standing in front of her, impeccably dressed in a tux of all things, and holding a bouquet of flowers in his broad hand.

 

His hair was elegantly slicked back into his tie, and his usual stubble had taken the night off, leaving his face completely bare. Cassandra had the sudden urge to feel the smooth skin under her hand, but quelled it before she let herself get carried away.

 

“...Uh...these are for you, Seeker. They're gladioli.” He held the brightly coloured flowers out to her, trying to mask the awe that painted his visage. “You look… really nice.”

 

She smirked. “As do you. You know, for someone who usually has an abundance of words at their disposal, that is very nondescript. I will overlook your lack of eloquence however, and take it as it was intended. Also, thank you for the flowers. They're lovely.” She reached out, taking the bouquet from him while her hand brushed his fingers with her own. The delicate touch sent an electrifying jolt through her body until it settled low inside of her. Watching him as their fingers brushed allowed her luxury of spying his pupils blow wide and a sharp intake of breath. Could she be mistaken when she thought he had no returning feelings for her? The thought sparked the anxious feeling to one of excitement at the prospect.

 

“Please, come in. I'll just get a vase for these and then we can leave,” she said, turning and walking back toward her kitchen.

 

~TtS~

 

 

Varric made his way into her apartment, but stayed by the door waiting with his hands inside his pockets to keep them from fidgeting with his earrings, a nervous habit he couldn't seem to curtail. Her unsurpassed beauty hit him like a freight train, his conscious mind second-guessing if he even deserved a chance with such an amazing woman as Cassandra. It was not often he was at a loss for words, but when she opened her door and stood there in that exquisite dress, he was nearly stunned into silence. If it hadn't been for the weight of the flowers in his hand, he might not have regained his composure at all. And wouldn't that have been an ironic scene, if there ever was one. He was apprehensive enough as it was, without Cassandra laughing at him, looking like a dumb ass.

 

He pulled out of his mind just enough to scan the room in which he stood in. So this was where the Seeker lived. Huh. It was exactly what he'd expected, really—clean, and minimalistic. A few vague pictures hung on the walls and sat upon her bookshelves, but none that reflected a personal touch. The walls were coloured a boring shade of taupe and most of the accessories which decorated the room were accented in a dull gray and white, like a dismal raincloud about to sprout raindrops. If it wasn't for the small swatches of red about the place and the engineered beams that capped it, he would no doubt dub this the most uninteresting home in all of Thedas.

 

~TtS~

 

 

Cassandra, who had begun to search for something to put the flowers in, found a vase on top of the fridge. Pulling it down, she set it upon the counter while she unwrapped the bundled gladioli and filled the vase with water. Arranging them about, she began to feel a tickle building in her nose. Damn her hay fever. This always happened when she brought flowers into the house. A rapid succession of sneezes ricocheted out and she could hear Varric from the living room uttering “bless you”.

 

“Thank you,” she called back to him as she placed the vase upon the kitchen table and moved to where he stood, waiting for her.

 

“I hope you're not getting sick, Seeker.” A flash of concern flitted over Varric's features.

 

Cassandra chuckled. “No, I am in perfect health. I do suffer from hay fever though, which was no doubt brought on by the flowers you brought me.”

 

“Really? And here I thought you'd be impervious to everything. I'm shocked.”

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “And I was under the impression that dwarves didn't shave.” Letting the absurdity of his assumption sink in with her own sarcastic barb, she let a few moments of silence settle between them. “You know, it's just a shame I don't have a tree to punch.”

 

Varric looked at her questioningly. “What? I don't follow.”

 

“Years ago, my brother used to go tell me to punch a tree when I suffered from my hay fever as a joke. One day, I actually took him up on his suggestion and punched one. To both of our surprise, my symptoms abated and I have been punching trees—whenever one is near enough—since. After Anthony's death though, it became more about doing it to remember him than my actual affliction.”

 

Varric eyed her remorsefully. “Sorry to hear about your brother. That's a bum rap, losing a sibling. If it's any consolation, my brother is gone too.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she sympathized, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Heh, don't be. He was a bastard.” Varric gave a halfhearted smile, his fingers finding hers and pulling her hand from its resting place to settle between his own. “But enough about that. Tonight, let's not dwell on the memories of the past. Instead, we should be thinking about trying to make new ones.” He glanced up at her then, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. When Cassandra shot him a confused look, he took the opportunity to give a wink, and pressed his lips to the knuckles of the hand he still held.

 

Her face warmed instantly, sending colour splashing across her cheeks and down the column of her neck. “W- we should go, or we will be late,” she stuttered. Maker's breath. He'd unintentionally gained the upper hand, making her feel off-kilter. How was she going to express her interest in him, when he constantly pulled the carpet out from under her! Damn him, getting entirely too much joy out of her discomfort.

 

Varric laughed. “Whatever you say, Seeker.” Smirking, Varric let her hand slip from his own and gestured to the door. “ladies first.”

 

Giving a nod, Cassandra strode out into the hallway; she listened for the telltale tinkling of keys, rustling around in her clutch while Varric's steps echoed just a few paces behind her. Pulling the key ring from the safety of her purse, she slid it seamlessly into the lock. Turning on her heel, Cassandra gave Varric a look. “Let's go.”

 

When they came to the front door, he quickened his steps to overtake her and grasped the metal handle, opening the building up to the outside.

 

“After you.”

 

Nodding her thanks, she slipped outside into the cold evening air, shrugging on her thick shawl for warmth. The heat of his hand pressed at her lower back as the door clicked shut behind them, the contrast from the cool night air enticing a small shiver to run through her.

 

“Let’s get you to the car, shall we? It's this way,” he said, guiding her toward his vehicle.

 

The light from the street lamps cascaded down upon them as they walked in silence, long shadows dancing under their feet as they neared the car. Varric slid his key into the door and opened it, holding it ajar so Cassandra could get in—another gentlemanly gesture she couldn't help but be taken with. To be honest, up until recently, she was only privy to his voice and his caustic wit. Now she had actually met him in the physical world, it seemed that her blunt assumptions of him were more than a bit unjust. She wasn't about to refute the attraction she felt for him, but perhaps she now understood why she was falling for him a bit better.

 

The slam of the car door pulled her from her thoughts and she watched his illuminated profile cross in front of the car, keys tucked around his finger on their ring. He was handsome indeed, even more so dressed in his tux. She let a soft smile pull at her lips. Who would have thought someone as different to her as water to wine would make her feel all the things she had yearned for.

 

 

The driver's side door creaked open and Varric jumped in beside her, settling in his seat and pulling his belt across his brawny expanse of chest to click it in place. He then looked up at her and gave a suave smile. “All set?” he asked.

 

“Actually Varric. There is something I must say before we leave,” she started.

 

His features twisted into worry. “Uh... alright Seeker, what is it? Is there anything wrong? ‘Cause as far as I know, I've been pretty decent by your standards tonight.”

 

Her hands worried themselves together. “I- I have a confession to make.” She took a deep breath, and slowly counted to three to calm herself. “I seem to be having feelings for you as of late. Romantic ones.” She braced herself for tidal wave of rejection to sweep her up and drown her, but all she was met with was Varric's surprised laughter.

 

“Well, shit,” he chuckled out, bumping his hand upon the steering wheel. “It's about time, Seeker.”

 

Cassandra looked at him, aghast. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

 

“I've known you've had a thing for me since our card game a few weeks ago. And… since you've laid it out all on the table, I guess I should too.” Cassandra's eyes widened at his words.

 

“I've been feeling the same way, Seeker. I don't know how it actually came about, but I do. I think you're smart and stunningly beautiful and would be honoured if you would go to dinner with me sometime.”

 

Cassandra's heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed what Varric had just said. Her feelings were reciprocated. She worked her jaw, completely awestruck.

 

Varric gazed at her, a lovestruck twinkle in his eyes and a gentle smile upon his lips. “C'mon Seeker. Don't leave me hanging.”

 

“Y- yes. I- I would like that. Very much.”

 

“Good, I'm glad to hear it.” He breathed a deep sigh, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Now, let's get this show on the road, shall we?”

 

Cassandra gave him a coy smile. “Indeed,” she breathed, all the while inching her hand toward his. Finding his fingers resting on the edge of his seat, she slid her hand over and curled her hand around his.

 

Varric glanced down at their entwined fingers and gave her hand a squeeze. “Indeed,” he echoed, lifting her hand once again to his soft lips; the warmth of his mouth upon her skin sent a shiver down her spine and encouraged the heat to rise in her cheeks. He pulled away much too quickly, but not without his own cheeks aglow in the dim light. She knew it was necessary though; if they dallied any more, they would surely be late. Extricating her fingers from his, she returned her hand to her lap, allowing him to focus on getting to the Awards Ceremony.

 

 

 


	7. 6. The Truth Shall Set You Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The radio awards ceremony is upon us!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Saphir for beta-ing this for me. I really couldn't put another chapter up without you.

6\. The Truth Shall Set You Free

 

 

The drive over was turning out to be a pleasant one, and Varric couldn't help but give sidelong glances in Cassandra's direction. He felt like a million bucks with her sitting next to him.

 

As he eyed her profile, bathed in moving lights and long shadows, it made the scar on her left cheek appear more pronounced. He'd have to remember to ask how she got such a thing. Wondering about its story gave him the urge to run a finger over the scarred skin there, and if he was bold, more than interested to feel the raised skin upon his lips as he trailed kisses down her jaw.

 

Shit. This was going to be harder than he thought. The original plan was to take things slow and find out how she wanted to proceed with… whatever they were, but he really was going to have an issue if his thoughts ran away with him like that. His fingers were already itching to touch and his mouth parched, wanting nothing more than to quench his thirst with her. It was making it impossibly hard to be a gentleman. _Speaking of hard..._

 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Damn, if she noticed, there was no doubt she'd be disgusted with him. The trouble was, it had been two years since the opportunity to be involved with anyone had presented itself. His excitement was just a reflection of how long it had been. That still didn't excuse the fact he was half hard with all the filthy thoughts he was thinking of. He needed to stop thinking of her, is what he really needed to do. Driving should be his first priority, not doing obscenely dirty things to Cassandra. He had to think of something else quick. Conjuring up images of hiking, silence, and the smell of the sea—anything he hated really. Varric needed to keep his mind from taking a detour into the provocative before he had a real reason to.

 

It was working. His trousers didn't feel quite so tight now. _Phew, that was a close one_. Now, all he had to do was keep it that way.

 

“How long?” Cassandra asked him suddenly.

 

“How long is what, Seeker?” He glanced at her, puzzled.

 

“How long have you known about your feelings for me?”

 

“Ah. Well, that would depend on what feelings you mean. If you meant not despising you, well-”

 

“Varric.” His name came out from her lips like a warning.

 

“Alright, alright. I'll cut the crap. Um… I guess it was when that guy mistakenly called into my show instead of yours?” He paused, shrugging and letting out a long sigh, “I don't know. This shit is not really my thing. Discussing my feelings, I mean. When did you… you know, realize you had feelings for me?”

 

“I had always thought of you as a companion of sorts, honestly. I found the way you never shied away from my outspoken nature refreshing; you took my brashness in stride and not once did you falter when I came at you with barbed words. Your wit matched my bluntness, often besting me. I must confess, I have always looked forward to when you call into my show. But it wasn't until the day you speak of that I began to realize there was more to our banter. I began to wonder if you were interested in the same qualities you mentioned the caller's wife having, but brushed it off initially. The idea was still there, however, lying in wait. Then we met face to face, and I-” she floundered a bit, trying to find the words, “I realized I considered you handsome. That's when I recognized my growing feelings for you.”

 

“Wow, you sure know how to flatter a guy, Seeker.” He smirked. “I can already feel the butterflies starting from that poetic declaration you just gave me.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, fondly. “You know full well, I don't have the knack that you do.”

 

Varric laughed. “Oh, I don't know,” his voice was laden with amusement, “with a little help from yours truly,” he pointed at himself, “you could become quite the wordsmith. Maybe even write your own trashy romance novel!”

 

“I see you haven't filled your quota for bullshit today.” A rare chuckle bubbled up from her, and Varric felt his heart flip-flop in time with the sound of it.

 

“Hey, I may have let a little bullshit slip out, but it's only to even out all the honesty that I've allowed through,” he conceded.

 

Cassandra nodded, thoughtfully. “I suppose you have been unusually honest today. I guess I can live with a little bullshit from you... as long as you make it up to me later.” Varric shot her a look, not entirely sure if she meant the innuendo that hid underneath her words. Andraste's tits, if she was implying what he thought she was implying… he felt a scorching heat shoot down to his groin and settle there as he saw the truth of it laid bare before him. A rosy hue rested on her cheeks, and she had locked eyes with him. She _had_ meant it.

 

Fuck. And he'd been doing so well at being respectful too. So much for that plan.

 

“Well, that all depends,” he drawled confidently.

 

A hint of amused intrigue swept over her face. “Oh?”

 

“How much of a gentleman you want me to be?” he said, letting a roguish smile creep up and settle on his lips as he raked his eyes over her. Cassandra's breath caught softly as he watched and a splash of colour painted itself over the blades of her sharp cheekbones again. Maker's breath. He loved doing that so much. The rosy hue popped against her olive skin like the topping on a fancy Orlesian dessert; she looked good enough to eat. Dammit. His erection was never going to go away now, was it?

 

He had to use all his willpower to pull his eyes away and focus on finding a parking spot a few blocks from their destination. His fingers gripped the steering wheel much harder than necessary and the leather creaked under the strain. _Focus! You need to get there in one piece if you want to prove your point, and that won't happen if you keep staring at her._

 

His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he pulled against the curb. Putting the car in park, he turned off the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Ancestors, how in the void was he going to get out of the car? He felt like a fucking teenager again. Nothing like a hard-on to make you look like a perv. Right, more mundane thoughts. Caves. Nugs. The dark. Taverns that were too tidy. Rain. Anything to will his erection away before he got out of the damned car.

 

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, worried.

 

He gave hurried smile, trying to hide the panic that reared itself. “Uh...no. Nothing is wrong.” He thought fast, pulling an excuse from his memory bank—the fib hot on his tongue, “I'm just… uh… thinking over my speech if I win most popular radio personality. You know how it is; gotta make sure to thank the right people and all.”

 

He shifted in his seat and was about to open the door when Cassandra placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “If it's any consolation, I'm positive you'll win and there is no doubt in my mind, your speech will be fantastic. I can't wait to hear it.”

 

Varric let a rare, honest smile grace his lips as he placed his hand on top of hers. “Thanks, Seeker.”

 

“You're welcome, Varric.”

 

They locked eyes again and smiled tenderly at each other, eyes crinkling and cheeks aglow at the intimacy it alluded to.

 

Cassandra moved first; the moment was gone, disappearing as fast as it had come. Giving his arm a quick squeeze she slipped her hand from underneath his and made to exit the car. Varric stepped out too, thankfully much less aroused, and made his way to her on the sidewalk. “We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us, I'm afraid. Hope you've planned ahead and put on sensible shoes.”

 

Cassandra smirked. “Of course I have,” pulling back the hem of her dress to expose a low-heeled sandal, allowing a bit of her toned calf to peek through the zippered slit. “you didn't think I would be so absurd as to wear a pair of ridiculous high heels, did you?” She looked down on him and suppressed a snicker. “Especially when I tower over you to begin with.”

 

Varric gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Did you just call me short, Seeker? I'm offended!” He feigned being put-out.

 

She laughed. “You have nothing to worry about, Varric. What you lack in height, you make up in personality. And to be honest, I wouldn't change a thing. I like you just the way you are.”

 

Their arms brushed as they walked side by side, and soon Varric found Cassandra's slender fingers slipping through his own. His heart leapt behind his ribs and he couldn't help but puff his chest out in pride. This stunning woman walking beside him—Cassandra—was holding his hand.

 

“Seeker?” he asked.

 

She turned to look at him. “Yes?”

 

“I just want to let you know before we get to the venue, that you're absolutely gorgeous in that dress. A vision. And that I am deeply privileged to have you on my arm tonight.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

 

“The honor is all mine,” she murmured back, leaning in and dropping a kiss on his temple. His skin burned where her lips had touched him. He was left wanting more. Slipping his hand from hers, he moved it until it touched the small of her back. Then, he let his fingers drift round, feeling the sway of her lithe body under his hand as he cupped her hip in his palm. She smiled down at him and slid her hand around his shoulders, fingers playing against the fabric of his tux. So many things were flying through his mind now and the urge to find a secluded spot was like a hot poker scorching his brain

 

Fuck.

 

It would have to wait. Even though he would love nothing more than to ravish her in some secluded corner, he couldn't do that. Not yet anyway. He needed to take things slow, so that his mind could catch up to his heart and his body. This wasn't a race, after all. Yes, he wanted her. Who wouldn't? But he wanted to assure himself that it would end up as more than a dalliance. He couldn't bear another heartbreak so soon after he took the leap into a new relationship, especially if it was because he pushed Cassandra into moving too fast.

 

They reached the venue in good time, and as they neared the steps, their arms slipped from each other to pull the invitations from their respective hiding places. Showing their invitations to the man at the door, they slipped inside, hands finding one another again as they crossed over the threshold.

 

The place was already buzzing with activity, and people were mingling around the foyer of the venue. Glasses in hand, they were gathered in small clusters, their nattering mixing with the din of the reception music, creating a moderate stridency that made it hard for Varric to hear.

 

“What did you say, Seeker?” he asked, cocking an ear in her direction.

 

She bent closer to him. “I said, let's find our table and get settled.”

 

He nodded and allowed her to lead them to a long table where the seating plan was placed, hands locking together again.

She pointed to a table. “Ah, there. And it appears we are sitting together. Good. I would hate to make eyes at you from across the room and catch some poor fool's attention instead.”

 

A laugh escaped him, warm and rumbling within his chest. “Wouldn't that be a sight! Some unfortunate soul striding up to you, ready to start with some Maker-awful pick-up line, only to have you glare at them and in no delicate terms explain you are already taken.” Varric smirked, “I would definitely pay good coin to see the look on their face, especially when _I_ walk over and put my arm around you, like so.” He removed his hand from hers and slipped it around her waist.

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes and sighed in irritation, but Varric could tell her heart wasn't into it as the corners of her lips were still turned up at the edges. “Why must you be so prosaic. Couldn't you use your imagination and come up with something original, instead of some ridiculous display of machoism to show off that you and I are together? Or are you afraid I will dump you if something better comes along?”

 

“Well, can you blame me? Any guy would be lucky to have you, but I was the one who you decided on. I mean, would it be so bad if you allowed me, just this once, an opportunity to gloat? It's not everyday a woman of your caliber agrees to cross paths with a dwarf like me.”

 

Her features softened and a hand came to rest along the line of his jaw. “Do not sell yourself short, Varric. You've got many fine qualities that any woman would find attractive.”

 

He laughed at the unintended pun. “Short eh? It's kind of hard, as I'm only 5 feet tall. That's a tall order live up to, Seeker.”

 

“That's not what I meant, and you know it.” She chuckled and gave a mild push to his shoulder, his hand slipping from her hip to splay across her lower back with the playful shove.

 

“You don't say?” A bout of gravelly laughter escaped him at the fabricated glare she gave in his direction. “It's just hard to believe that, since you were the one who said—and I quote—‘especially since I tower over you to begin with’ _._ ”

 

A groan escaped her then, her eyes narrowing into a pointed stare. “Now you're pushing your luck.”

 

“Okay, I'll stop, even though I love how riled up you get. It's adorable.” He raised his free hand in surrender, watching as her cheeks flushed with his compliment.

 

Pushing any more probably wasn't a good thing, so he opted to play it safe. “'C'mon, let's find that table of ours, shall we?” he said, tugging her gently toward their table. He stopped on the way to pick up two flutes of champagne and handed one over to her. As they settled into their seats, they noticed a steady stream of attendees making their way to their own tables. Taking the chance before more people were in earshot he took her hand and smiled. “You know, I'm kind of sad that the awards ceremony is going to start soon. It means I'll have to pry my eyes from you and actually pay attention.”

 

Cassandra shot him a furtive glance and leaned in close. Her voice ghosted over his ear, a mere whisper that held both anticipation and a promise like a gift. “That makes two of us then.”

 

If they had been anywhere else, there was no doubt in his mind that he would have given her a searing kiss right then and there. But, just as he was going to take the chance and capture her lips with his own, an intrigued voice broke the spell that had been cast over them.

 

“Well, would you look at that! Well done, you sly dog!” Hawke clapped a hand on Varric's shoulder and his declaration dropped between them like a brick. Retreating to a respectable distance, Cassandra and Varric looked up and frowned in his direction.

 

“Tactful as always Hawke.” Varric grimaced.

 

“That's what I'm here for!” Hawke grinned at them like the cat who caught the canary.

 

Cassandra looked around Hawke expectantly. “Where's Isabela? I am surprised she isn't with you.”

 

“Did someone mention my name?” Isabela came slinking over, dripping with jewels and draped in a silk dress that left nothing to the imagination, a willowy elvhen woman trailing shyly behind her.

 

“Ah, there you are, and I see you've brought Merrill along with you.” Hawke grinned at the two women, grabbing Merrill's hand and kissing it before slinking an arm around Isabella.

 

Merrill’s emerald-coloured eyes, round and resplendent, caught Varric's and she bounced excitedly. “Varric!”

 

Varric stood, arms open and a smile as bright as the sun on his face. “Daisy! I'm glad you made it here in one piece. Traffic wasn't too much trouble for you, was it?”

 

“Not really. The bus was on time, but being dressed in all this finery got me a lot of strange looks. One man even came up to me and told me that I looked really nice in my dress, but he'd much prefer me out of it.”

 

Varric's mouth dropped open and he glared at Hawke and Isabela, who both just shrugged. “What in the void were you thinking, taking the bus on a night like this?! Especially since you have to pass through the bad part of town. Why didn't you ask for a ride from Hawke and Rivani, considering you live with them?”

 

Merrill looked back at Varric sheepishly. “I forgot. I know, it was silly of me. But I'm here and in one piece, see? I promise I can take care of myself. No need to worry, Varric.”

 

“Do you still have the stuff I gave you?” he asked in a lowered tone.

 

“What? Oh! You mean this?” Merrill pulled out a canister of pepper spray from her dainty clutch that matched her flowing forest-green chiffon dress.

 

Varric gasped and grabbed for it, shoving it back from where it came from, hurriedly. “Good. Just checking.”

 

Merrill tilted her head, confused. “Why did you look like I'd scared the pants off you when I showed you the pepper spray, Varric?”

 

He shushed her then, looking around suspiciously to see if anyone overheard. “'Cause it's not exactly legal in Ferelden, Daisy.”

 

Merrill's eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh, I see. Alright, I promise to not shout it out again. And thank you. For looking after me, I mean. It's much appreciated.”

 

A smile pulled at his lips. “Anytime,” he said, and then looked in Cassandra's direction. “By the way, I'd like you to meet someone, Daisy. This is Cassandra Pentaghast, The Seeker of Truth.”

 

 

~TtS~

  

 

Cassandra was gobsmacked. She knew behind the rugged good looks and the bullshit he was an honourable man, but to see him care so openly about his friend like that sent a shock wave through her heart, decimating any left-over preconceived notions about his character. Regardless if the pepper spray had been acquired illegally, the fact that he'd put his own self at risk to keep Merrill safe sang with unseen virtue and gave her a glimpse of the true noble nature he possessed.

 

She realized then that the facade he posed to the world—the confident, smooth talking, smug man—was used like a shield to protect himself from getting hurt. In that instance of worry for Merrill, she saw the real Varric shine through—the caring, protective and sincere person who quite possibly possessed the biggest heart she had ever seen. And if she had the disposition for it, there was no doubt she have swooned.

 

Varric's gruff voice brought her back from the depths of her mind and she realized she'd been introduced.

 

“It's nice to meet you, Merrill.”

 

Merrill's face brightened. “So you're the Seeker Varric has been telling us all about—you're certainly as beautiful as he described.”

 

A beauty. She couldn't help but chuckle at that. It wasn't as if she discounted herself as beautiful, no, but she had thought of herself as attractive in an unconventional sense. To have another, less obvious person compliment her like that was surprising, but not unwelcome. Truthfully, she wasn't the only one who had good looks though. Merrill's tanned skin, soft mossy eyes and raven-black hair were certainly alluring in their own right.

 

“Thank you. Varric has told me much of you, as well. Is it true that you've studied the science of botany and have quite an extensive repertoire in herbalism as well?”

 

Before Merrill could answer, however, the lights dimmed and heavy music began to play, accompanied by the logo for the Ferelden Broadcasting Committee on the giant screen that backdropped the stage.

 

After they took their seats, the emcee's voice trumpeted out through the surrounding speakers. “Welcome to Skyhold's 7th Annual Radio Awards Ceremony! Tonight, we are celebrating the achievements and excellence of our very talented broadcasters and stations across this lovely city of ours. Without their tireless efforts, we wouldn't have such a thriving broadcasting industry for the masses to tune-in to. So, without further ado, here is your host, Maryden Halewell!

 

The esteemed singer glided up to the podium, her stunning dress flowing out around her small frame as a sea of people clapped at her eloquent entrance. When the applause died down, her melodic voice started in on an opening speech, but Cassandra soon found herself tuning out for most of it. All this pomp and circumstance just to show off you were good at what you did made her cringe inside. She didn't particularly like to flaunt her talents, regardless if she had a knack for them or not. It was what she did with that talent which was important. Helping people and offering solutions to problems were what she used as her guide. Not some silly award or recognition given by a biased committee.

 

More cheering and applause caught her attention—Maryden had finally finished her speech. It was time for the ceremony to begin in earnest.

 

The first half of the ceremony was filled with awards going to the stations themselves and those who ran them. Personally, Cassandra was much more interested in the hand that snuck underneath the table to rest upon her knee. The pad of Varric's thumb was absentmindedly rubbing the slice of leg that lay bare between the zippered slit. His eyes appeared focused on the stage in front of them but she knew it was a ruse. He was watching her from the corner of his eye, searching for approval of the contact he'd initiated. Giving the slightest of smiles, she reached underneath the table and placed her hand on top of his, giving it a small squeeze of acceptance. She all but imagined a quick intake of breath from him, his fingers tightening around her leg marginally. Thankfully, the rest of the table was oblivious. She was glad for it; the hidden interaction going unnoticed meant she didn't have to worry about explaining away the blush that flared to life upon her cheeks. After the various stations had been given their awards, and all of the winners had spoken their acceptance speeches, the emcee announced the intermission. It couldn't have come fast enough in Cassandra's eyes, and when it did, she breathed a sigh of relief. Regardless of the favourable distraction Varric provided, her stomach was now growling enthusiastically and the thought of food made her mouth water. Finally, the plates were placed in front of them and she had to restrain herself so she wouldn't eat it too quickly.

 

 

After the meal was finished and her stomach was no longer demanding to be fed, Cassandra escaped the confines of the venue to peruse a quieter spot before she was to present alongside the man who had captured her heart. Slipping out onto a deserted balcony overlooking the hotel's gardens, she leaned on the railing and took a deep breath of fresh air. Her mind drifted like waves on the sea, one after another gently crashing into her consciousness. Thoughts of love swelled as she pondered over the strange turn of events regarding Varric and the revelation that he wasn't as morally rough as she thought him to be. In fact, if Anthony were still alive, he would have gotten along very well with Varric. Both had the charm and the wit to make anyone like them. The familiar feeling of pinpricks against her eyelids told of tears threatening to fall, and she delicately wiped at the corners of her eyes.

 

“There you are! I thought you'd gotten lost looking for the ladies room,” Varric joked as he strode up next to her, hands in pockets and laid-back smile on his face. It looked good to see him so relaxed, and she couldn't help but return a watery smile. His features morphed into that of concern upon seeing her, hands sliding out of their resting place to touch her arms reassuringly. “Hey, what's wrong?” He rubbed her skin in a soothing fashion while she tried to choke back a sob. “Come 'ere,” he encouraged, pulling her into a hug, his broad arms wrapping around her waist.

 

Cassandra's voice wavered as he held her. “I- I was just thinking of Anthony. He was killed this time last year while on duty. He went undercover to suss out where the shipments of Dragon's Blood were coming from. Another drug ring showed up, and he ended up being fatally wounded.”

 

“So that's why you weren't in attendance at the last one, then. I'm so sorry.” Varric recalled, as he rubbed large circles on her back.

 

Cassandra nodded. “I couldn't. At least not in the state I was in.” she paused for a moment, thinking. “He would have liked you, you know. You have the same sense of wry humour.”

 

Varric smiled up at her, moving his hands from the plains of her back to wipe away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Well now, I'd say that's the best compliment I've ever gotten from you, Cassandra. I am deeply touched.”

 

Cassandra's breath hitched at the use of her proper name. Varric had only ever used the nickname he had given her. Hearing her given name leaving his lips, in that gruff voice of his, changed the sentimentality she felt to sensuality. His proximity was so very close, hands on either side of her moist cheeks, eyes shining bright in the light of the moon. It wouldn't take much for her to kiss him. Not much at all.

 

Before the opportunity was lost, she leaned in and slanted her lips over his. A startled noise came from him, but he quickly recovered and melted into the kiss. His hands found their way back around her waist, pulling her closer and she felt his tongue dart out to lick the lip which was enclosed between his. A moan escaped her then, and she granted him further access, opening her mouth to him like a blooming flower touched by the sun’s rays.

She'd never kissed with such passion before, not even with Regalyan. Sparks skipped across her flesh as their mouths clashed in a wicked dance; their hands grasped at fabric in a fierce rush, desperate to touch each other. Cassandra's soft moans were swallowed up by Varric's hungry lips as he pushed her back into a nearby chair.

 

“Much better,” he groaned between kisses as she dropped down into the seat. His rich chuckle flowed out on her flushed skin as she gasped at the sudden change of height; he was now half a head taller than her. Taking advantage of the situation, he dragged his lips over to where the column of her neck met her jawline and graced her skin with a trail of soft kisses, occasionally flicking his tongue over her soft flesh.

 

“Cassandra,” came her name, muffled against her throat. “Do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

 

Another moan is all she could manage as he raked his teeth over her pulse point, hot breath setting her skin on fire. She felt his hands grip her knees, fingers slipping up her thighs just enough to cloud propriety and she drew a shaky breath against the shell of his ear.

 

“W- we should be wary of the time. They'll be calling us back soon,” she managed to get out, the words barely above a breathy whisper, her Nevarran accent thickening.

 

Varric stuttered to a halt, barely a breath away from the bronze skin of her shoulder. “What a shame, I was just getting started. I suppose you're right though. Wouldn't want them to happen upon something improper, now would we?” He left a lingering kiss upon her shoulder before making his way back to standing.

 

Cassandra gazed up at him, taking in his slightly disheveled appearance and trying to clarify her meaning. “That is—if it were up to me, I would have no qualms with continuing what we started, but people would start to wonder what was going on if we didn't show up to present the award, I'm afraid. Perhaps a rain check could be arranged—at a later date?” A coquettish smile found its way on her lips.

 

Varric flashed an impish grin. “And here I thought we'd have to take things slow. My, my, Cassandra, I can't believe you proved me wrong—never would I have pegged you to be anything but puritanical.” He chuckled then, out of shock more than anything. “Don't get me wrong though, I'm not disappointed at this little bombshell. Not in the slightest. In fact, I'd be more than happy to oblige.”

 

He stepped back and held a hand out to her, fingers wiggling. “Well, I suppose we should make our way back,” Varric said with a sigh, with just a touch of wistfulness breaking through.

 

Cassandra nodded at him and stood, taking his offered hand. “Yes, I suppose we should—not that I wouldn't much rather stay here, with you. I'm quickly finding I do not enjoy spectacles like this. I now realize how ostentatious it is, full of pomposity and prejudice.”

 

“Come on Seeker, it's not that bad.” Varric urged, “How else are you supposed to tell if you're any good?”

 

“That's easy, you don't—at least not from getting an award, that is.”

 

“Well, almighty advice show host, how else?” Varric smirked up at her, swinging their locked hands between them as they walked toward the entrance of the ceremony.

 

A disgruntled noise made it's way up her throat, and she rolled her eyes at him. “You shouldn't base your worth as a radio host solely on an award you've won. In my case, it comes from the help I provide my listeners—any success I've achieved, I owe it all to them. They are the ones who keep me on the air after all, and not some trophy that sits idly on my mantelpiece.” Cassandra looked at him sincerely for a moment before she flashed a playful smile. “It also helps that a certain dwarf calls in on occasion, and stirs the pot.”

 

He looked up at her, like a saintly paragon. “Me stirring the pot? You've got the wrong guy, Seeker! I'm as upstanding as they come—I wouldn’t dream of lowering myself by antagonizing anyone. You of all people should know that,” he said with a wink.

 

A laugh bubbled up from her and she shoved him playfully on the arm. “The void you do, you insufferable dwarf! I know you revel in it.”

 

“Truthfully, the only thing I want to revel in right now, is you.” He smirked up at her and gave yet another wink as they re-entered the ballroom.

 

Cassandra gaped in his direction as he tugged her toward their table. The audacity of his remark had totally caught off guard, but by the time she'd figured out something to say as a rebuttal, they were being asked to meet backstage in order to present the award. There was no denying it. She couldn't help feel a zing of arousal go coursing through her, regardless of how stunned she might have been. The thought thrilled and terrified her all in the same breath. It had been so long since she had someone's affections like that, at least enough to have them openly declare they wanted her.

 

She sincerely hoped that he'd refrain from making any more comments like that. Well, at least until they were finished presenting. If he threw her off in the middle of the speech with another double entendre like that, she wouldn't know what to do to recover from such an embarrassment. Of course she'd planned ahead and made some cue cards, of course—in order to keep them both on track—but they'd be for naught if Varric decided to astonish her again.

 

The emcee's voice blasted through her mind, scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind. “And now, we begin the second part of our ceremony with the award for Best Newcomer! Here to present are two people who've taken the radio scene by storm! Please welcome Varric Tethras and Cassandra Pentaghast!

 

Cheers and whistles met Cassandra and Varric as they walked on stage, the blaring lights all but obscuring the sea of people before them.

 

They sauntered up to the podium, and a problem suddenly made itself known. Varric's head was barely noticeable above the lectern. Seeing the dilemma, a person from the stage crew came out and quickly passed a stool into his awaiting hands as a roar of laughter rose up and settled over them. Varric flashed a winning smile to the audience and shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, what can I say? Life is short, and so am I.” Another peal of laughter rose up from the audience while Varric stepped up, his head and shoulders now properly clearing the podium.

 

Cassandra laid out the cue cards upon the lectern, fingers moving them about until they were in the right order as soon as the laughter had died down. Taking a steadying breath, she jumped right in. “It takes a lot to be noticed when you're new in this line of business. You need to be cutting edge, with something that sets you apart from the other people on the radio.”

 

Varric grinned. “And, of course, writing a few novels on the side doesn't seem to hurt either…” a short rumble of laughter rolled out at his comment. “But, whatever a budding radio host uses to gain listeners, it's got to grab attention and hold it. And this young woman has certainly done that and more. The winner for this year's best newcomer goes to the Red Jenny herself, Sera!”

 

A young blonde elvhen woman rose from her seat, and made her way to the stage, a gigantic grin spread across her face.

 

“Thanks, Weirdy,” She said, grabbing the mic straight out of Varric's hand. “So, instead of trying to write some shite down, I'm just going to wing it, yeah? This...” Sera held the award above her head, “is dedicated to the people. I mean the little people—not those tossers who think 'cause they got a bit of money they can push others around. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. Although, if it wasn't for those upper class piss-bags, I'd be out of a job I suppose. Who else would I play all those pranks on?” A cheeky giggle escaped her then. “The point is, my show is for the little people so they can have a voice and knock a few higher-ups down. That's why I do it. For them, I mean. So, thanks for allowing me to have a go at some stupid ass-biscuit nobs so that the little people can feel vindicated. Cause that's what it's all about, really. So thanks for that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna finish off my night by getting shit-faced.” Sera held the award up in the air again, and sauntered back to her seat, as the audience clapped politely at her ridiculous speech.

 

Cassandra was a little stunned at Sera's vulgar prattling. And by the looks of things, so was Varric. His brow arched and a knot appeared between them as he left the stage, Cassandra right behind him.

 

“Well, that was interesting. I'd never expect Buttercup to win best newcomer—only on the premise that the higher-ups would want to knock her down a peg. I mean, don't get me wrong. Her show is a damn fine one, but I could see the broadcasting company not being too happy about all that badmouthing shit. Luckily enough, it's not up to them,” he smirked.

 

“Truthfully, it is the first time I've heard of her show,” Cassandra admitted.

 

Varric chuckled. “That doesn't surprise me, Seeker. Vulgarity isn't your style.”

 

“And how do you know? Perhaps I just hide it extremely well.” A brow quirked in his direction.

 

“Alright then, I bet you 5 royals that you can't say a curse word without blushing,” he said, smugly.

 

“I don't do bets, Varric,” Cassandra said as they moved toward their table.

 

Varric feigned understanding. “It's alright, Seeker. I get it. You think you'll lose the bet, so in order to save your dignity, you're declining.”

 

Cassandra huffed. “That's not it at all! I just don't want to curse with all these people in attendance.”

 

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. It won't change the fact you're still a blusher… unless you prove it otherwise, of course.”

 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise that boiled up the back of her throat. “That's utter bullshit, and you know it!”

 

Varric guffawed loudly, much to the dismay of the other attendees, and got more than a few shushes in return.

 

Suddenly the spotlight was on Cassandra, and they were calling her up onto the stage. How was that possible? If she was supposed to win an award, shouldn't she have been notified first?! Her face contorted into a confused visage, which only made Varric laugh louder. Giving him a swat to the arm as she passed his shaking form, she walked woodenly back up to the podium, quietly asking Leliana on the way what the award was for.

 

“Don't be absurd, didn't you know that you were nominated for most influential show?”

 

“No, I did not!” She snipped back quietly, wondering how in the Fade she was going to come up with an acceptance speech on the fly. She just didn't do things like that. If she'd been given some warning, perhaps she could figure something out with the help of Varric, but not like this.

 

Walking up on stage, she took the award and mic from the presenter's hands and stood by the podium, searching for Varric. If she centred herself on him, perhaps she could get through this with little damage.

 

“This is an honor, and quite a surprise, truth be told. I had no idea I would win the award for most influential show. They must have forgotten to inform me.”

 

The audience was silent as she paused, except for the odd cough that filtered through. Finally, she locked eyes on Varric and he smiled encouragingly up at her. “Surprise or not, I would like to dedicate this award to my listeners and those people who helped me reach this tremendous feat. Without you,” she stared intently in his direction now, willing him to understand his part in her win, “my show wouldn't be where it is today. You have my unconditional gratitude and I hope my show continues to be as inspiring and meaningful as you have made it out to be. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

 

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

Bianca watched the towering beauty of a woman make her back to her seat after winning most influential show, and eyed her ex-lover's hand wrap around her shoulders in an embrace. So, it looked as if Varric had finally moved on. Huh.

 

Truthfully, she wasn't entirely sure what to expect this year, with him finally cutting the ties they'd worked so hard to keep. In years previous, they'd steal away to a dark corner for a while, or he'd rent a room and they would spend what precious time they could afford on lovemaking. And when they were through, their secret kept safe, they'd go on as if nothing had happened to save face. It wasn't the ideal situation, but it worked. That was, until it didn't anymore.

 

Ultimately, if she had the choice—perhaps choice wasn't the right word. She didn't have a choice, really. If she had the _freedom_ she often dreamed about, she would have picked Varric, hands down. But life wasn't fair and she had to think of the responsibly to her family, one that weighed down on her shoulders so heavily that it seemed impossible to get rid of. She was stuck. Stuck in a marriage that had little love to speak of. Stuck with a family that was so void-bent on tradition, they practically forced her to marry a 'more orthodox' choice of a dwarf. And worst of all, she felt stuck with the fear of losing everything she herself had worked so hard for. Her hands had been tied—were _still_ tied.

 

But that didn't mean she couldn't try and persuade him, though. One thing she prized herself on was her stubborn determination. Once he saw how much she missed him, and how much fun they used to have together, he'd come back. He always did. And this woman—this Cassandra, whoever she was—wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

 


	8. 7. A Wrench in the Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A relationship blooms, and so does the speculation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Saphir. I really am glad no one has to put up with my terrible grammar anymore.

7\. A Wrench in the Works

 

 

 

Varric had been called in early. His boss, Warwick Trevelyan, had asked to see him before his show, but he had no idea why. It wasn't because of his ratings, he knew that. And with a new award for most popular personality sitting on his shelf that he'd won nearly three weeks ago, Warwick should be more than happy with him. So what was this all about?

 

Setting his stuff down in his office, and his cell phone on his desk—Warwick always hated it when a meeting was interrupted by the annoying chirping of a ring tone—he wandered over to his boss' office and pushed the door open with a hand.

 

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, his head peeking through the open doorway.

 

“Ah, yes. Come in, Varric.”

 

Warwick was a shrewd man, and a conceited one at that. It was reflected in the way he sat so proudly at his large desk, hands steepled in front of his face.

 

“I am not going to beat around the bush. I overheard some rather _interesting_ news while I was at the awards ceremony and wanted to get it straight from the horse’s mouth. It came to my attention that there are rumours flying about you and Cassandra being involved romantically. Now,” he said, leaning forward and placing his hands upon the desk as if to brace himself against some unfavourable news, “as you can probably surmise, that might not be in the best interest for both of the respective stations. Both of your shows do well, and that is partially because you both call into each others shows and rant at one another. If you two are in a romantic relationship, the more likely it is that the ranting will turn soft and the ratings will drop. Do you see my problem?”

 

Varric couldn't believe his ears. No one should tell him who he could and couldn't date, least of all his boss. “Excuse me?” he asked, bewilderment written all over his face. Maybe he was imagining things.

 

Warwick gave a sigh and tried again. “I am asking you to refrain from taking on an endeavour that might cost the station its high ratings, Varric. With your business savvy, you of all people should know what I'm talking about.”

 

“Huh.” He gawked at his boss, trying to understand the absurdity he was spewing. This was fucking insane. “I'm sorry, did I just hear you right? You’re implying that I'm not allowed to choose who I date?” Varric could feel the anger burning in his veins, ready to explode like a volcano. “'Cause if you are, I'm here to inform you that it's none of your fucking business who I date, bottom line. I don't fucking care what it does to the Maker-damned ratings, that's not for you to decide. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a show to set up for.”

 

Varric left before his boss could get a word in edgewise, shutting the door to his office with more force than he intended.

 

Fuck.

 

He hoped his boss was smart enough not to try and fire him over this. In Varric's eyes, Warwick needed him, regardless of how infuriated he was. Regardless of his discussions on air with Cassandra, the ratings didn't lie. He was one of the top shows, next to Hawke and Rivani's. And besides, he knew if his boss tried anything further, the BetterBusinessBureau would have his head for it. Varric would definitely see to it that they knew of Warwick's discrimination, there was no doubt about that.

 

Stomping back to his office—still pissed off about what his boss had said—Varric closed his door with a crash, and flopped down into his computer chair. Scrubbing his hands over his face and spearing them into his hair, his elbows pressed painfully into the wooden top of his desk and a sigh left him in a rush.

 

He needed to tell Cassandra what happened.

 

Looking about the scattered papers on his desk, he realized his phone was missing. Shit. That meant Rivani had done it again—she'd taken his phone and hidden it high on a shelf he couldn't possibly reach without help. A groan escaped him. He really wasn't in the mood to play her games right now.

 

Getting up, he stepped toward the door of his office. Giving the cool metal doorknob a twist, he opened the door and made his way to the radio booth that he'd inhabit in a half-hour. The light above the door signaled to most people to refrain from entering, but thankfully he wasn't most people. Plastering a smile on his face, he entered.

 

“Alright Rivani, Where is it?” he said, holding out a hand, expectantly.

 

Isabela peered up at him, trying to look innocent. “Whatever do you mean Varric? Oh, of course! You mean this...” She held up his phone and wiggled it in the palm of her hand, as distinct Nevarran slander was shouting out of its speaker.

 

Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, they called Cassandra. This had just made his day go from bad to worse.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

When she saw Varric's name pop up on the caller ID, she was surprised but happy to see he wanted to talk to her this early in the day. He'd told her he wasn't much of a morning person, spending most of his evenings writing late into the night. So, seeing his name flash across the screen of her cellphone this early in the morning was a rare occurrence indeed.

 

A smile grew on her face. “Couldn't wait to talk to me again I see,” her voice warm and full of affection. But instead of Varric's sexy voice flowing through the receiver, she got Isabela's instead.

 

“No, we really couldn't.” Isabella and Hawke laughed, only making Cassandra's mood blacken.

 

“Ugh, what do you two want,” she demanded, “and why in the void do you have Varric's phone? Where is he?”

 

“Now, is that any way to talk to two of your _boyfriend's_ best friends?” Hawke asked, avoiding her questions like the plague.

 

“What is the meaning of this? If Varric has put you two up to calling me for some sort of joke, I'm going to kill him!” she growled.

 

Isabela laughed. “Oh, Cassandra, don't be so cross. Varric isn't to blame. We just wanted to have a little chat with you, just to see how things are going between you and our dearest friend. After all, it's not every day you see two of the most illustrious radio show hosts getting involved romantically.”

 

“That is none of your concern! What I do with my spare time is my own business and certainly not yours!” Cassandra shouted into the phone, rage vibrating through her like a jackhammer.

 

“Oh, but it is! You see, we're concerned. We want to make sure you won't do something unforgivable like breaking his heart. We couldn't bear to watch him go through that again.” Hawke's tone was light, but she swore there was a hint of real concern hidden behind his words.

 

Cassandra now understood why they'd called; under the playfulness of the stunt, they were trying to safeguard their friend from getting hurt again. That didn't mean that she'd give them a proper answer though—she knew they'd called her while on the air. If she answered truthfully, the whole of Skyhold would know of her personal affairs and that wasn't something she was willing to divulge to the masses. She'd never hear the end of it if she did.

 

She managed to hold back her anger, and instead, tried to reason with them. “I am declining to answer such a personal question on air. If you wish to talk to me about it, then by all means come and speak to me personally. I will be more than happy to oblige you in whatever questions you have.”

 

There, that was more than reasonable.

 

“Oh, so does that mean you're _in_ a relationship with Varric or that you intend to break his heart? You know, avoiding our questions like that can make it very confusing to us _and_ our listeners.”

 

That's when she snapped. It was one thing to act like this, but they were going entirely too far with their constant pushing for answers, especially while being live on the radio. Before she had a chance to catch herself, Cassandra began spewing obscenities in Nevarran at his so-called friends, whoever was listening be damned.

 

That's when the faint voice of Varric hit her ear.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

“You've got to be shitting me,” Varric muttered, as the full extent of what Hawke and Rivani had done hit him. Marching up to Bela, he grabbed his phone and glared in their direction. “I can't believe it. Out of everyone, I would have expected more from you two. You’re my best friends for Andraste's sake! If you wanted to know about my personal life, why didn't you just ask me! Oh no, instead, you both thought calling the Seeker and probing her for information on live radio would be a bright idea. Thanks, guys. Now you've given me a massive shit-pile to clean up.”

 

He turned on his heel and strode through the doorway, letting the door slam shut on his way out.

 

Varric put the phone to his ear. “Hey Cass, sorry you had to deal with those two blockheads. I really thought I had taught them better manners than that.”

 

“It's no matter now, my interrogation is over thanks to you—my dwarf in shining armour.” A warm chuckle hit his ears. “I am suspicious though. There seemed to be an underlying current to their questioning. I would ask them about it later, if I were you.”

 

“Well, they've been known to poke the bear every so often for fun. But, since you've posed a concern, I'll look into it.”

 

He stepped into his own office, the feeling of betrayal lessening. Cassandra was probably right. There must be an explanation for their strange stunt. They didn't usually do this sort of thing to him—their best friend—without a damn good reason for it.

 

Closing the door and scoring some small slice of privacy, he leaned back against it, a sly smile brightening his face. “So sweetheart, how's your day been so far…besides the whole mess with Rivani and Hawke.”

 

“It's been decent…but it would go much better if you were by my side.” Cassandra's rich voice flowed over him like a soothing balm.

 

“I'd want nothing more than to be where you are right now, but alas we've both got work to do. And,” he sighed, his tone turning serious, “I guess I should tell you what my boss said to me today. Apparently the dick-head thinks that he's got the right to tell me not to date you in no uncertain terms.”

 

Cassandra gasped. “What?! How dare he—that's workplace discrimination! I hope you informed him that you'd be filing a formal complaint!”

 

“Didn't get the chance, actually.” Varric shrugged and rubbed a hand across his brow. “He's worried our banter will go soft on the air because we're in a relationship, and thinks the ratings will drop. I can see his concern, though. If we get too adorable on air, who's going to want to listen to us anymore? People like the friction between us,” he said with an impish grin, “and as a matter of fact, so do I.”

 

“Varric! This is no time for vulgar jokes!” Cassandra exclaimed. “This is a serious matter; you need to file a complaint, and the sooner the better.”

 

“Whoa, hold up there Seeker,” Varric cautioned, “let’s not get too hasty. Like I said, I can see where he's coming from.”

 

Cassandra balked. “Wha-”

 

Varric hastily intercepted before she went on a tirade. “That doesn't mean we have to stop dating, of course,” he said, trying to console her. “We just have to make sure that our higher-ups don't catch wind of it.”

 

“You're implying that we should keep it a secret? I can't do that Varric! I am not going to hide my feelings because your ass of a boss doesn't like the idea of us dating. I won't do it!”

 

“I didn't say we had to hide our feelings or lie about it...just subdue them enough so that no one suspects we're legitimately involved... or until a better circumstance comes along where we can actually disclose our relationship. Sound good?”

 

She groaned. “Fine… I will try my best. But if this comes back to bite you, do not come crying to me for help.”

 

“Thanks sweetheart, I owe you one,” he said, a soft smile rising up on his lips. He took a look at the clock on the wall. “I gotta go though. I need some emails sent off before I get into the booth. See you tonight?”

 

“See you tonight, my love.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Varric hung up the phone, pushed himself off the door and headed for his office chair. The seat creaked under his weight as he lowered himself into it, and he surveyed the documents and the glowing computer screen. _Best get this over with,_ he thought, opening his email and attempting to respond to his editor. A new idea for a bookhad popped in his head and he wanted the approval to go ahead with it. She'd been interested, but he could sense an apprehension that came along with it. Hopefully with a little diplomacy he could convince her outright and allow his new ideas to reach their intended pages.

 

“Here goes nothing,” he sighed out, his fingers clacking away at the keyboard, until he nearly couldn't see straight. After he'd finished the letter to his editor, he moved on to sending a few quick emails, checking with some prospective guests to see if they'd like to come on the show.

 

Varric reached to press the button on his computer screen just as Rivani and Hawke snuck in.

 

He looked at them impassively. “What do you two want?”

 

“Well,” Hawke started, “we're kind of the reason why Warwick wanted to see you today.”

 

“What?! So you decided to throw me under the bus?! What the fuck guys!”

 

'Bela barged in. “No! That's not what happened…we kind of let the cat out of the bag by accident when we were at the awards ceremony.”

 

“By accident, eh? I'm having a hard time believing that,” Varric crossed his arms indignantly.

 

“We did! we were discussing how wonderful it is to see you so happy and that it must be because you'd taken the plunge and become involved with Cassandra.” Hawke looked at him like a puppy who'd been struck. “Apparently he was standing behind us and overheard the whole thing.”

 

Varric took a deep breath. “So that's why he found out about Cassandra and I.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, shit.”

 

“Yeah... so we decided to come up with a plan to get you off the hook.”

 

Rivani glanced at Hawke, before turning to look apologetically at Varric. “We decided that we'd take your phone and call Cassandra while you were talking with Warwick. We'd ask a few personal questions to stir up some speculation, knowing both you and Cassandra were unlikely to confirm anything. Word would get back to him, and he would come with full intent to ream us out, when we'd simply explain it as a practical joke on him, and that we were all in on it to drive the ratings up further.”

 

Hawke gave an encouraging smile. “It worked too. Not only did our fool of a boss take the bait and run with it, but the speculation from our listeners has kept the phone lines ringing off the hook! Everyone wants to know if it's true or not!”

 

“Hmmm,” he said, giving a grimace and scratching at the stubble on his chin, thoughtfully, “Well, I guess there's worse things in the world. I'm going to have to warn Cass though, so she doesn't let something slip.”

 

Varric picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Cassandra letting her know what had gone on. Hopefully she'd get it before going on the air, so she wouldn't be bombarded by callers pestering her.

 

He smirked. “You two are going to be the death of me, I swear. Next time you decide to do something like that, let me know, will ya? I could have gone into cardiac arrest with that little stunt you both pulled today,” he said, clutching at his chest for emphasis.

 

Hawke grinned back at him. “You got it, pal. No more stuff like that unless you're informed about it first.”

 

Bela bent down and gave Varric's cheek a kiss. “We promise.”

 

“Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go deal with my hysterical fans.” Varric laughed as he got to his feet and held the door ajar for his friends.

 

Hawke looked back at him after passing over the threshold. “Good luck, my friend,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

Varric let out a gruff chuckle. “Thanks man... Maker knows I'll need it.”

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

 

Cassandra's phone chimed. Flipping it open, she glanced at the text Varric had sent.

 

 

_from: Varric [10:48am]_

 

_Looks like you’re in for a big surprise. Hawke and Rivani's show_

 

_has made us the talk of the town. Be prepared for relentless questions and your_

 

_phone ringing non-stop. You were right, BTW. They had a good reason._

 

_-V_

 

 

 

“Great… just great,” she muttered to the walls in her office. Now what was she supposed to do? She'd promised Varric she wouldn't say anything, but what if something slipped out by accident? What if one of her listeners turned her words against her and got her to admit something she wasn't supposed to?

 

A groan found its way up her throat as her hand rubbed at her furrowed brow, tiredly. Why did people have to be interested in her personal affairs? Couldn't they find something better to ponder about? She supposed it had something to do with Varric being a writer; he was renowned throughout Thedas as a top-selling author. That didn't make any of this easier though.

 

She looked at her watch. Ten minutes until she was supposed to go on air.

 

Pushing off from where she'd sat on the edge of the desk, she made her way down to the booth. Leliana was just finishing and when the light above the door went off and Cassandra let the door swing open, wide. She needed to tell someone about this, and Leliana seemed the best choice—not only because they were best friends, but because Cassandra knew she'd take it to the grave if she asked her to.

 

Before she was able to say anything, Leliana let out a surprised laugh. “The listeners tell me there was an interesting occurrence on the breakfast show with Hawke and 'Bela this morning! Something about rumours of you and Varric dating...”

 

Cassandra's eyes went wide. “You didn't tell them anything, did you?”

 

Leliana put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Of course I didn't. It's not my place to tell them anything that you've said in confidence.”

 

“Thank the Maker for that,” Cassandra sighed, all the tension slipping from her body with it. “I'll phone you later to tell you about it. I'm sure you'll think it's as ridiculous as it sounds.”

 

“You better!” Leliana smirked, “I've been waiting for something this interesting to happen all week.”

 

“Yes yes, I'm sure you'll find it quite the diversion,” Cassandra snipped out, placing her leather jacket on the back of the chair.

 

Leliana came over and gave her friend a quick hug. “I'm sure everything will be fine. Have faith and trust in that.”

 

Cassandra squeezed her back. “Thank you, I'll try. I hope the rest of your day goes well, Leliana.”

 

Leliana released her and stepped back with an easy smile. “You too, Cassandra,” she said, before gathering her things and turning toward the exit. “Talk to you later!”

 

Cassandra gave a wave of her hand at Leliana's retreating form and then turned her attention to getting the booth ready. Sitting heavily in the office chair, she slid her gaze over to the phone while adjusting the mic to her height. The lines were nearly filled with flashing lights even before her show had begun.

 

Maker's breath.

 

_The faster I get through this, the better,_ she reasoned internally while picking up the headphones and plopping them on her head.

 

She took one last deep breath to steady her nerves. There. She was ready for whatever they could throw at her now.

 

Cassandra squared her shoulders and sat up, resolute.Her fingers turned dials and pushed the sliders this way and that, setting up her intro.

 

She could do this.

 

“Good morning, and welcome to the Seeker of Truth. I am your host, Cassandra Pentaghast. Today I was going to discuss the topic of self-esteem, but since a certain situation has arisen, I think it's best if I switch to something that is relevant given recent events; topics of utmost importance: privacy and disclosure.” Cassandra's office chair squeaked noisily as she swiveled it back and forth, one hand bringing the mic just a touch closer. “First, definitions,” she said, pulling out a dictionary, letting the pages flutter under her fingers until she found the page she was looking for. “Privacy is the state of being free from public attention or unsanctioned intrusion, but can also mean the quality or condition of being secluded from the presence or view of others. And to disclose something means to make something known, most often information. I would like to add that disclosure, for me personally, often dignifies a certain sort of trust and confidentiality. To have something disclosed without one's permission often breaks that trust, and ultimately the privacy they intended with it. It needs to come with consent in order to avoid one's privacy being tarnished. If you don't have the consent, don't disclose the information, bottom line.” Cassandra let a sigh out, and rubbed her brow; holding back her emotions on the subject certainly was trying.

 

“Now… I would like to give a chance for those who have stories or issues pertaining to the situation to call in. Let's see if we can seek out some solutions, shall we?”

 

Her stomach flipped mercilessly at the thought of taking callers; anxiety had reared its head, making her palms sweat and her heart flutter as she rolled over to the phone and depressed the first line on hold.

 

“Hello and welcome, you’re on the air with the Seeker of Truth.”

 

“Good morning Lady Seeker.”

 

“Good morning…?”

 

“Uh, call me… Blackwall.”

 

“Alright, Blackwall…” Cassandra said, brows frowning suspiciously at his strange introduction, “what is it that you wish to say?”

 

“Well… privacy and concealment of personal affairs come at a high cost; one that can seem reasonable at first, but with time, that cost can eventually bear down on you and even make you break with the weight of it. I m'self am no stranger to this. Keeping something from being brought to light can be the coward’s way out, and I want to let the listeners know if they are struggling with something, being a craven about it will make things worse in the long run. Even if getting someone to share the burden of your troubles seems like a double-edged sword, you will feel better for having it out in the open. The only time something should be kept private is in matters of the heart. In your case, Lady Seeker, you should be entitled to your confidentiality without being badgered about it. I for one won't pester you, you have my word.”

 

Mild annoyance came out in the way of a terse sigh and a narrowing of the eyes before Cassandra answered. “Yes, well... thank you for that, Blackwall.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Seeker, and I hope others will take my advice and do the same. Good day.”

 

“Good day to you as well. Now, let us take another caller,” Cassandra's finger depressed the button holding line two. “Hello, you are speaking with the Seeker of Truth.”

 

“Hello, my dear. I'd like to give you some advice on matters of the heart from someone more worthy to speak on this topic than your previous caller. Use this breach of privacy to your advantage, darling; you should take this opportunity and turn it into something you can control. Why not come right out and say you orchestrated the whole thing to drive up your ratings? It wouldn't be far from the truth, I presume.”

 

Cassandra's face blanched. Why in the Maker's name couldn't everyone just leave her situation out of it, and talk about the issues that plagued them instead? Even if the material vaguely related to her own circumstance, it didn't mean they had to keep pestering her about it. Her listeners truly enjoyed beating a dead horse, didn't they? She'd just have to avoid talking about it, is all. Perhaps use one of Varric's honed tactics? Yes, that might work.

 

“Using a breach of privacy to gain a leg up is disgraceful, and I detest playing mind games. If you choose to use that sort of ploy to get others to do your bidding, then that's your affair. I, on the other hand, simply won't do it on principle.”

 

“Fine, my dear. Suit yourself; I'm only trying to help.”

 

Cassandra tried to coax the woman's name out. “Thank you for that…?”

 

“Lady Vivienne, darling.” Her voice was syrupy, hiding the bite beneath.

 

“Your advice has been duly noted.”

 

“I should hope so, my dear. I wouldn't give it to just anyone, you know.”

 

“I see. Thank you and goodbye.”

 

“Bonne chance!”

 

Cassandra sighed inwardly. “It is now time for a word from our sponsors. After the break, we'll continue this riveting discussion and perhaps take a few more callers. This is Cassandra Pentaghast, and you're listening to The Seeker of Truth.”

 

 

' ' ' '

 

 

Cassandra couldn't wait for the day to end.

 

It had been an arduous one. She had had enough of intrusive listeners trying to decipher—or at least offer their opinions on her speculated relationship with Varric—which wasn't really speculation at all, but they didn't know that, and nor would she ever tell them. It really wasn't any of their business, after all. And after that, when she went to get some work done in her office, almost everyone gave her strange looks as she passed them, like she'd painted her face with ridiculous colours or something. Then the whispers came. Along the street and in the grocery store, everyone was eying her and talking in a hushed tone, as if they had any right. It was too much.

 

She let out a deep sigh—now she could relax. A nice evening was planned between the her and Varric; she was going to go over to his place and cook for them both. It was a simple thing, but it sent excitement zipping through her as she put the groceries in the trunk of the car.

 

Perhaps tonight they would also cross the boundary they had silently set up, and she would stay the night. Truthfully, what they had was passionate and intense, but they both had been apprehensive to some degree—having loved and lost had made them both cautious. They didn't really want to rush into things, no matter how apparent the sexual tension was between them.

 

She pulled up outside of Varric's place. Her stomach swooped suddenly in anticipation and her heartbeat quickened underneath her ribcage. It was amazing to feel like this after so long. She'd thought, after Regalyan, that she'd spend her remaining years a spinster with only her tabby cat for company. And no matter how lovable Cailan was, he couldn't compete with the yearning she'd felt for proper companionship with another person.

 

And what a person Varric was.

 

She stepped out onto the pavement and gathered up everything she needed, shutting the door closed with a sway of her hip. Brown bags crumpled in her hands as she walked to the door, and a warm voice rose up above the noise.

 

“Oh, let me help you with that.”

 

Cassandra's voice was muffled against the brown paper. “If you could hold the door, that would be more than enough, I should expect.”

 

“Are you sure?” he asked.

 

“Yes, thank you.” She heard a rich chuckle just ahead and to her left.

 

“Alright, suit yourself. The door is open.”

 

Cassandra peeked between the valley of taupe paper to see where she was going, and saw a flash of auric wavy hair and a scarred smile.

 

“I'm Cullen. And you are?”

 

She readjusted the bags as she passed over the threshold. “Cassandra.”

 

“Well, it's nice to meet you. Have you just moved in or…?”

 

Cassandra stopped. She really wished he would quit asking her so many questions—there had been enough of those today as it was.

 

When she didn't reply, Cullen ducked his head and scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Sorry, I apologize for the intrusion. I can assure you I meant nothing by it,” He gave a fond smirk. “Old habits die hard, I suppose—I was an officer in the Kirkwall police force.”

 

Cassandra became curious. “Oh? You mean you're no longer part of the police force? Not even here?”

 

Cullen's smiling face faltered at all the questions. “There, uh- there was corruption in the ranks—my superiors were power hungry and wanted to beat the people of Kirkwall into submission…”

 

“I see. Hence the Kirkwall Rebellion.”

 

“Exactly. I didn't agree with their methods; it was much too harsh. Instead, I resigned from the force and found myself here.”

 

Cassandra nodded, trying to juggle the heavy bags. “Well, I hope that the move has proven to be a fresh start for you, but I really do need to get going. Varric will think I've stood him up if I don't.” She walked toward the elevator and tried to push the button. She nearly dropped the groceries instead.

 

“Maker's breath! I'm sorry for keeping you with my nattering.” Cullen's cheeks flushed and he rushed over and pushed a finger on the up arrow, realizing how silly he looked just standing there like an idiot.

 

“It is no matter. It was nice meeting you Cullen. Perhaps we will see each other around?”

 

“Yes, I would like that. And if you get the chance, say hello to him for me, will you?”

 

“Certainly.”

 

The doors slowly slid shut, obscuring Cullen's athletic good looks from her vision, and the elevator started to slowly ascend.

 

Placing the groceries on the floor for a moment, she stretched out her aching arms. Who would have guessed that an evening’s worth of groceries could have been that heavy. Perhaps it was because she hadn't worked out in a few weeks, trading her usual spot for exercise to see Varric. _I should probably get back into it, if my arms are feeling this tired,_ she mused to herself.

 

The bell dinged, signaling her arrival, and she bent down to gather up the bags. Hoisting them up on each hip, she left the elevator with a smile on her face and a new-found bounce in her step. Cassandra couldn't wait to find herself in Varric's arms, feeling the stress of the day melt with every kiss. She could see it now—they would lovingly work around each other, small touches of affection while they prepared dinner. Then they would sit close and hold hands in the dim candlelight as they enjoyed their meal, all while sipping at their wine. Perhaps after dessert, she could convince him to read to her as they both curled up on the couch. She really did love to hear him read to her.

 

Opening the door to his apartment, she slipped easily between the door and frame and walked through his unusually quiet living room.

 

Odd.

 

The door was left unlocked, so he had to have been home. Where was he?

 

She entered his kitchen, intending on putting the groceries down, but heard a strange noise.

 

Looking up, her world slowed to a near stop. Cassandra's heart felt like it had dropped out of its protective cage to splatter all over the floor with a sickening thud.

 

A dwarven woman—possibly Bianca, if memory served—was scantily clad in what appeared to be nothing more than Varric's coat. She was pressed up against him and her lips were slanted against his, her hands sliding around his stout torso like two venomous snakes. As for Varric, he didn't seem to be as invested in it but that was no excuse. A kiss was still a kiss.

 

The groceries soon found their demise next to her broken heart on the ground, the bags ripping with the force of being dropped, splaying their dinner items all over the floor.

 

Varric yanked his lips from the dwarven woman's at the crashing noise and stared wide-eyed at Cassandra, staggering back a step as if he'd been bitten.

 

“Sweethear-”

 

“Do not sweetheart me! In fact, do not even so much as _look_ in my direction again, you bastard,” she growled, shaking with betrayal and anger and spite. _How could he hurt me like this! I should have known I could never have trusted him..._

 

Turning on her heel, she bolted from his presence without another word, tears stinging her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, she made her way to the stairwell and rushed down, desperately wanting the safety of her car, Varric’s voice calling her name like a whisper on the wind.

 

Home. She needed more than anything to be home.


	9. 8. In Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hearts are broken, but it won't be for long. ;)

8\. In Pieces

 

 

 

His heart felt like it was being crushed as he called after her.

 

Watching the seething anger and betrayal in Cassandra's eyes as she ran from his apartment could have killed him ten times over, all thanks to Bianca.

 

Bianca.

 

He turned back to face his apartment door when he saw her, holding his jacket loosely around herself and smiling as if she'd just won a gold medal.

 

“Are you fucking crazy?! Why are you _here_ , Bianca? Don't you have better things to do than fuck up my life more than you already have?!” he spat out, fists clenched and eyes like daggers.

 

She smirked, ignoring his venom. “Thanks for the compliment, honey. I'm glad you think so highly of me.”

 

Varric growled angrily at her. “Don't you dare try and avoid this. You’re the one who got me into this mess in the first place!” He began to pace in the hallway, fingers rhythmically clasping and unclasping at his sides. “Showing up here in nothing but your underthings, trying to worm your way back into my heart… it won't work! I told you two years ago that I was done with your bullshit and things haven't changed! I don't want you anymore! _I've. Moved. On.”_

 

Bianca crossed her arms and sighed, framed by the doorway of Varric's apartment. “Alright, if you've really moved on,” she sauntered up to him, “then why didn't you stop me from kissing you? I mean, you could have just pushed me off.” Her hand moved up to try and stroke his cheek, but he batted it away.

 

“Because you caught me off guard, dammit! I don't know if you know this, but I wasn't exactly expecting you to show up unannounced in my home and to come on to me in my fucking kitchen—which reminds me, I'll have to find another hiding spot for my fucking spare key so this _never_ happens again!”

 

“Who says I used the spare key?”

 

“Bianca...”

 

“Alright. Fine. I'm sorry. I just… missed you.”

 

Varric glared at her suspicious confession. He knew that wasn't the only reason for her being here. And—Andraste's tits, he wanted to find out, but not now. Not when she was standing there, in next to nothing, looking at him like he was one of her cars. “I don't care, Bianca….not anymore at least. You can't just show up and expect things to be the way they were. You’re married and I've- I've found someone else. Now, you better go, before someone misses you.”

 

“But Varric...” Bianca pleaded, making to lay her hand on his arm.

 

He flinched, pulling it out of her reach. “Don't. Just don't.”

 

Varric moved silently past her, closing and locking the door behind him. His back thumped against the door forlornly and he slid down until his ass hit the hard wood of the floor, elbows perched upon his knees and his hands cradling his head.

 

Maferath's balls, how could he possibly fix this?

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

Cassandra was curled up in bed with Cailan perched at her feet. Her tears had long since dried and left rough tracks on her face, giving way to puffy eyes from the strain of crying.

 

Why had she been so naive as to think Varric wouldn't hurt her? That they had something special enough that he wouldn't need to seek love and affection from someone else? But to find Bianca pressed against him like that just made the whole thing sting even more. Raw pain emanated from where her heart should be, surged, and threatened her with a new wave of tears.

 

Perhaps talking to someone would help.

 

Grabbing her mobile phone, she dialed Leliana's number with shaking hands, the sting of tears blurring her vision.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Leliana...” Cassandra's voice wavered.

 

“Cassandra, what's wrong?”

 

“I- I found him with...” big droplets began to splash upon her blanket as she tried to get the words out, “with Bianca… they- they were kissing.”

 

Leliana gasped. “Oh Cassandra,” her voice full to the brim with tenderness and concern. “I'm coming over. I'll be there in ten.”

 

Cassandra sniffed and wiped the tears away with her sleeve. “See you soon.”

 

All she could think of to do was roll over and curl up into a tight ball upon her bed, waiting for Leliana's telltale knock while the blankets became damp with all the tears that fell unabashed. Why had she let herself dare to hope that Varric was someone who possessed a virtuous heart? How could she have been so blind! Sobs racked at her now, half out of spite. She allowed herself to believe him. To believe that he was over Bianca, and that he actually cared. It was all a facade, wasn't it? He didn't really care for her.

 

A knocking sound rang out.

 

She sat up, grabbing at some tissues to blow her nose and to wipe away the tears from her swollen eyes. “I'm coming. Be right there,” she managed.

 

Stepping out of the safety of her blankets, she made her way to the door and opened it.

 

Leliana immediately put her arms around her. “Oh, my dear friend, tell me everything.” She released Cassandra from her embrace, and looked at her apologetically. “I've brought some wine to help ease the pain.”

 

She sniffed and took a deep breath.“Thank you. Come in,” Cassandra said, closing the door behind Leliana as she entered.

 

Cassandra sat down haphazardly on the couch and grabbed a pillow to hug as her friend went to the kitchen to get some wine glasses.

 

Coming back into the dimly lit room, Leliana handed Cassandra a glass. “So…” she said, taking a sip of the maroon liquid, “tell me how it transpired.”

 

Cassandra cleared her throat. “Well, I was on my way to his apartment with some groceries to cook dinner at his place.”

 

They both sat in silence for a moment, Leliana sitting with bated breath. “Go on,” she urged Cassandra lightly.

 

“I found them in the kitchen… they were kissing. Bianca was clearly not wearing much, with the exception of his coat.”

 

“I see,” Leliana nodded, taking another sip from her glass. “Did he appear to be… interested in the interaction?”

 

“In all honesty, I cannot really remember. I was so angry with betrayal that I ran from him as fast as I could, only after telling him that he wasn't allowed to even look in my direction again.” Cassandra gazed pensively into her glass, swirling the wine around before taking a long pull.

 

Leliana grasped at Cassandra's free hand. “You may not like what I'm about to say, Cassandra, but please hear me out.” She gave a squeeze to her hand. “I can't help but wonder if things aren't at all what they seem. Perhaps Bianca had come to stir something up? She hadn't been in his life for nearly two years—is it possible that she had found out that you two were actually dating?”

 

Cassandra let her mind absorb what Leliana said for a moment. “I'm not sure. There is always the chance she could have, I suppose. But that doesn't excuse Varric in any of this—it was his lips that were pressed against hers when I came in. If he really didn't have any feelings for her anymore, then why was he still in her embrace? Couldn't he have pushed her off and saved himself the trouble?”

 

“That may be true, Cassandra, but you will never find out unless you talk to him. For all we know, he could have been taken off guard. I know I'd be stunned if someone tried to seduce me who was from my past, especially if they just showed up unannounced.”

 

Cassandra downed the rest of her wine and looked at her pointedly. “Leliana. I know what you’re doing, and it won't work. I have made my decision. I can't allow him to hurt me again—once was enough.”

 

Leliana let out a sigh. “Of course,” she said, rubbing at her temples. “I just think that if things were different and it was you kissing Regalyan, Varric would give you the benefit of the doubt and talk to you about it before assuming that you were still in love with your ex.”

 

She shot a pointed glare at her friend. “I am _not_ acting like a child, Leliana, as much as you like to think so! I am in the right to be angry about this! They were kissing Leli! Kissing! I can't just sweep it under the bridge!”

 

“No one is asking you to! But doesn't Varric deserve to tell his side of the story?” Leliana scooted closer to Cassandra, putting her hands on her arms. “Look, I'm not saying you have to go out and find him right this minute—what he did was inexcusable, and you've every right to be upset. But when you've had some time to let your anger to fade to disdain, then I think you should go and see what he has to say.”

 

Cassandra heaved out a heavy sigh. “I suppose you're right. Now,” she affirmed, shoving her empty wine glass in Leliana's direction, “I think I'd like to imbibe some more of that wine you brought. Please.”

 

Leliana chuckled. “But of course, my dear friend.”

 

Two empty wine bottles later, Leliana put her arm around her inebriated friend and shuffled them both in the direction of her bed.

 

“You know, Leli,” Cassandra slurred, “I'm glad I found this out now. I mean, Maker forbid if I had actually _slept_ with him before this happened.”

 

Leliana merely nodded and moved to Cassandra’s dresser to get out some pajamas.

 

Cassandra continued. “Not that I hadn't thought about it—of course I did. What woman wouldn't? But I'm glad for my apprehension, nevertheless. It proved invaluable.”

 

Her pajamas were held out to her, laid in Leliana's slender hands. She stripped and slowly dressed, the nightshirt and pants giving her some difficulty through the haze of alcohol. Once finished, Cassandra slid into bed as Leliana tucked her in and sat down upon the duvet, leaving a glass of water and some pills for the morning.

 

“Goodnight, Cassandra. May your dreams be peaceful.”

 

“Goodnight Leli,” Cassandra murmured, before catching her arm as she turned, “and thank you for coming over tonight. Also, send kind regards to Arabella for me.”

 

“I will. Now sleep.” Leliana smiled down at Cassandra as she snuggled under the covers. The last thing she heard was Leliana's gentle humming and the raindrops falling upon her bedroom window. Sleep was upon her at last.

 

~TtS~

 

 

 

Three weeks had crept by with not so much as a word from her. No returning his calls or texts and when he tried to go see her at her apartment, she remained silent behind the door. He thought—perhaps a bit naively—that if he kept pushing, she'd want to push back at some point. But she didn't, and it was now tearing him up inside.

 

All he wanted was a chance to explain what had happened. Was that too much to ask? He wanted to be able to tell her his side of the story. There was a high chance that she'd call it lies and storm off, but at least he would have been able to try and set things right. At least she would’ve had all the facts before making her judgement.

 

 

Like a flash of lightning, an idea came to him.

 

And what a wonderful, terrible idea it was too. His book— _Swords and Shields_. That's how he'd get Cassandra to listen to him! He'd already written his editor about a new chapter. How hard would it be to slip in a thinly veiled scene reflecting their own? And perhaps in the dedication, he’d write an apology to her.

 

She'd have to listen then! There was no way she'd be able to resist it. She loved that serial too much to avoid picking it up once the new installment was out. It was the perfect plan.

 

Images and words flashed in front of him so fast, he barely had time to grab some paper and jot them down as he sat at his kitchen table. Soon, he was scribbling on any scrap of paper he could find, writing out the details to his addition for the newest chapter. This had to work. It just had to.

 

 

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

 

She tried to hold her head high, show that she wasn't affected. Inside however, she was feeling more and more guilty that she hadn't allowed Varric to say his piece before she fled his apartment two months prior; it had been eating away, bit by bit, but she wouldn't let it sunder her. She would go on and live her life, even if it meant that her heart bore a hole where he used to be. A lesson in love, she would call it. Another lesson to add to her notebook of experiences.

 

Part of her new regimen meant keeping busy; it prevented her mind from thinking of the sliver of guilt that kept creeping up. The business card Dorian had given her flicked between her fingers, and his voice echoed in her thoughts. _Here's my card. I've written my mobile number on the back, so you can give me a ring if you've a mind. And don't forget—the book exchange offer is still open._

 

It would be good to get out and spend some time talking about books.

 

Before she could stop herself, she dialed Dorian's number.

 

“Dorian Pavus here.”

 

Suddenly Cassandra felt extremely awkward. “Hello… uh, Dorian. It's Cassandra. You pieced together a dress for me three months ago...”

 

Dorian's voice brightened. “Oh, hello Cassandra! I was hoping I'd hear from you!”

 

“Yes, well… I was wondering if you'd like to meet up over lunch? And that invitation extends to Bull…. if he's free, of course.”

 

“Why, I thought you'd never ask! Unfortunately Bull is away on business, but I would love to come! How about at that little Orlesian café around the corner from where you work? You know, Le Masque du Lion. I've heard quite outstanding things about its selection of delicacies.”

 

“That sounds wonderful. Say, about 11:30? And don't forget to bring a book to exchange. I am curious to see if you can pick out a book that actually works with my taste.”

 

Dorian chuckled warmly. “Do you doubt me? I can assure you your taste in literature is as easy to tell as if it were painted in gold filigree on your brow.”

 

“We shall see.” Cassandra smiled. “I hope you deem my choice for you to be of a similar quality, and I haven't overshot my bounds.”

 

“Well if you misjudge my own refined taste, I wouldn't blame you. It's not easy to find literature that's good enough to grace my eyes.”

 

“Of course it isn't,” Cassandra scoffed playfully, her voice turning softer as she continued. “I will do my best though. Until then, Dorian.”

 

“Until then, Cassandra.”

 

 

 

' ' ' '

 

 

“So, Cassandra, tell me everything.” Dorian prompted, crossing his legs and folding his hands together expectantly as they sat around a table perched upon the elegant street-front patio of Le Masque du Lion.

 

“About what? I don't get your meaning.”

 

“About the Awards Ceremony, of course!”

 

“Oh. That,” Cassandra muttered apprehensively. “It was… good. Yes. I won an award.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “You know that's not what I mean. How did the evening go, in regards to your heart?”

 

Cassandra blanched. Did she really think she'd be able to get away with an enjoyable afternoon without Varric being brought up? A sigh left her. “It went well. For a time. But now it is over, and I have moved on.”

 

He looked at her skeptically. “Somehow I don't think that's the case.” Dorian unlocked his legs and took her hand. “Whatever it is though, you'll come out stronger for it.”

 

She thanked the Maker that he didn't try and pry further. Placing a hand on top of his own, she smiled. “Thank you.”

 

“Now,” he announced, slipping his hand from under hers and pushing a book in her direction, between the two empty plates, “this is for you. I hope you'll like it.”

 

She took the book and held it up. “ _Adventures of the Black Fox_. I have heard bits and pieces of the tale of Lord Remi Vascal, but have never properly read any of them. It should turn out to be an enjoyable read. Thank you, Dorian.” She fished in her bag and handed a book of poetry to him. “I also have something for you.”

 

He gave a surprised laugh. “ _Carmenum Di Amatus_. How on earth did you find this? Isn't it banned?”

 

Cassandra smirked. “I have my ways,” she said, cryptically, the corners of her lips quirking into a sly smile.

It would be good to get it off of her bookshelf. Varric had given it to her—a romantic gesture which initially had made her stomach fill up with butterflies, but now made her gut twist instead. Hopefully by the time Dorian was finished with the tome, her uneasy feeling would subside and a vague memory would be left in its place.

 

Just then, she heard her name being called over her shoulder, gruffly. Turning, her heart stopped.

 

Varric.

 

“What do you want, dwarf?” she hissed, sizing him up. He looked haggard, like he'd slept in his clothes and the usual stubble upon his face had grown into the start of a beard. If she didn't know any better, she would have said he was brokenhearted.

 

Seeing him like that, she thought it would make it easier on her heart to hate him, but it didn't. In fact, her heart felt as if it had only just began to beat again. The outright betrayal of her feelings made her grimace. Just because he showed up looking so downtrodden, didn't mean that she'd allow him to waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened.

 

“Sorry to interrupt your… date. I… um, here. This is for you.” He handed over a book. “I was going to leave it at your work for you, but I saw you here…”

 

Dorian laughed. “A date? No, you have this all wrong. We're just friends. Dorian Pavus, owner and creator of PAVUS clothing.” He held out a hand.

 

Varric's cheeks flashed red, realizing his misjudgment. “Ah. Friends… I'm Varric. Varric Tethras.”

 

Surprise flitted over Dorian's face. “So _you're_ Varric, radio host and author extraordinaire. Cassandra has told me about you.”

 

“Likewise.” Varric took his hand and shook, briefly.

 

Her eyes flicked over the cover, not caring about their pleasantries and wanting nothing more than to get to the point. “What is this?”

 

“I- it's my newest chapter of Swords and Shields. I thought since you were a fan of the series, you'd like to have a sneak peak, before it's released.”

 

She could tell Varric had something up his sleeve. “And what makes you think I would actually read it, after what happened between us?”

 

Varric noticeably winced. “It's a peace offering, Seeker. I know we can't go back to the way things were, but I'd like to think I can try and repair some of the damage that was caused.”

 

The guilt she felt reared it's ugly head. _You owe him this much, Cassandra. Take the book._

 

“Fine. I do not know when I will be able to read it though. I've become very busy as of late.”

 

Varric's shoulders sagged in relief. “That's all I ask for, Seeker. See you 'round.” And with that, he left without another word, hands in pockets and head held higher than when he came.

 

Dorian looked astonished. “Now, after seeing that pitiful display, you really _must_ tell me what happened Cassandra. A man doesn't look that wan because he feels like it—he's clearly heartbroken.” He leaned in, eager.

 

She bit out a disgusted noise and her shoulders tensed. Why couldn't he have just left things alone? Even though she wanted nothing more than to ignore his request, she had a feeling Dorian wouldn't just sweep things under the carpet this time—not with how Varric had shown up, seemingly out of the blue. “Fine, I will tell you. I admitted my feelings to him the night of the awards ceremony and, to my surprise, he felt the same. We had a wonderful evening, and a wonderful three weeks of being together. Then, I go over to his apartment one night after a particularly trying day at work, to cook us both dinner—a low-key date, if you will—and I find his ex-fiancée in barely a stitch of clothing locking lips with him in his kitchen.” She rubbed a hand over her brow. “Now do you see why I didn't even want to give him the time of day?”

 

Dorian nodded his head slowly, in understanding. “Ah, that would be a good reason, indeed.” He leaned back in his chair, satisfied curiosity and all. He looked back at her, thoughtfully. “But I can't help but wonder if it really was his own doing. In other words, don't dismiss his ex-fiancèe's hand in this. She could have set this up to break you both up. I mean, he looked much too careworn to place _all_ the blame on his shoulders, don't you think?”

 

Cassandra heaved a heavy sigh. “I am starting to wonder the same, now I've had some time to think upon it.”

 

“Well, perhaps that's all the motivation you need to go and let him have his say.” He looked at her, beseechingly. “Wouldn't you agree?”

 

Cassandra nodded, solemnly, biting her lip. “Yes, you're quite right. I will talk to him.”

 

He sat back, notably reassured. “Well, that's a relief. If I watched you sulk any longer, I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. Now, let us enjoy the rest of the afternoon in style.” His hand shot up and flagged a waiter down. “Your finest bottle of bubbly and two glasses please.”

 

The waiter nodded. “Yes Ser, right away,” he said, and moved back out of sight to retrieve it.

 

 

' ' ' '

 

 

Later that evening, and after she could no longer bear the suffocating force of guilt that lay between her shoulder blades, she decided to take a look at the book Varric had given her.

 

Her hand swept gently over the cover, spying yet another picture of the Knight-Captain upon it's front. This time though, she was mirrored by her Guardsman and they were fighting off what seemed to be a mountain of armoured men that had them surrounded.

 

She cracked the cover open, its crisp creaking making her twitch with anticipation. No matter how badly Varric had acted or how mad she still was at him, she still yearned to know what happened between the Knight-Captain and the Guardsman. Crisp paper rustled under her fingertips as she turned the title page and saw the dedication.

 

 

_C---_

_My sun, my love, my light._

_I choose you, now and always._

_V---_

 

 

Cassandra's heart felt as if it were doing a back flip behind her ribs and her eyes pricked with unshed tears. She scowled and shook her head, trying to cast off the overwhelming feeling of affection she found from his simple, yet deeply moving words. Just because he'd dedicated the book to her in such a way didn't mean he was off the hook. But it was a start.

 

She flipped a few more pages, and began to read the newest chapter. Soon she became enraptured as he spun his tale between her two favourite characters. Eyes eagerly savouring every word he came up with, she moved to lay on her front upon her bed, with her legs waving about carelessly about as she devoured page after page. Cailan had come in and had fallen asleep next to her side sometime during the evening, purring softly against her flank.

 

The pages flew by, hooking her in with its plot twists and turns until she was met with the climax and audibly gasped. He'd written the very scene they themselves had played out in his kitchen some two months ago, with one exception. Instead of her running out like she had done, he'd written the Knight-Captain had stayed and demanded to know why he had spurned her for another. The guardsman assured her that he was just as appalled as she was, and explained that he found his ex lover in their quarters lying in wait. When he tried to remove her from his sight and told her never to come calling again, she kissed him in one last fleeting attempt to gain back the love they had once shared, but it was too late for that. The guardsman had found a woman who wouldn't betray him as she had done, one that he loved fiercely and forever. Turning to his beloved Knight-Captain, he declared his undying love for her, falling to his knees and begging her to believe him with hands raised pleadingly.

 

Tears streamed from her eyes and splashed upon the pages freely, obscuring her ability to read. She sat up. Wiping the dampness away from her cheeks and lashes as she drew breath after shaky breath, she tried to control the flood of regret, love, and shame that threatened to drag her under. She found Cailan still asleep on the bed and picked him up, cuddling him as he looked at her with those omniscient green eyes and butted her head affectionately with his own.

 

“Oh Cailan, what have I done? I assumed it was he who had initiated it, when it was Bianca all along. I should have trusted him, but instead, I didn't even give him the chance to explain, I just ran. It's my fault why we are no longer together, because of my assumptions and my pride.” She sniffled. “I must fix this. I need to make it right and hopefully, he will forgive me for my foolishness.”

 

She buried her face in Cailan's pelt, and hugged him to her chest, as the tears fell silently upon his fur. He struggled and meowed at the dampness and Cassandra let him go, regretfully replacing him with a pillow as he jumped off the bed, annoyed at her misplaced coddling.

 

Feeling like most of her emotions were under control, she turned back to read over the few pages she had left. The Knight-Captain had accepted that he had next to no part in what happened and embraced him with everything she had, pulling him off of his knees and wrapping her arms around him, lovingly. They shared a passionate kiss—one that was much too short—before she turned her gaze upon the woman who tried to drive them apart. She marched up to the rogue, and her glare was as cold as ice. “Get out,” she seethed, “and never come back, do you hear me? Never.”

 

The rogue looked at her flippantly. “Suits me just fine—I got his best years anyway. Have fun dealing with what's left.”

 

The Knight-Captain said nothing to her snide remarks, but watched in silence as she moved toward the door and out of their lives, forever.

 

Cassandra rejoiced; the elation she felt bubbled up and left her in a fit of giggles. She hugged herself happily and sighed, falling back upon the bed. The other woman had been dismissed, now freeing them up to apologize—in more ways than one, if Varric had anything to do with it.

 

Her eyebrows shot up beneath her fringe at the thought.

 

Scrambling back upon all fours, she hastily grabbed the book and found the page where she had left off. Had he written a love scene, with them both in mind? Her eyes flew over the remaining pages, framed by the occasional soft gasp or sigh and ending with her upper body flaring a rosy colour.

 

Passion and adoration spilled out with every word he placed upon those remaining pages, describing their entanglement with a fondness that she couldn't ignore—one that left an impossible ache in her heart and between her legs. She missed him, and wanted him more than ever. She just hoped she hadn't blown everything by being curt with him earlier that day, and he would accept her heartfelt apology when she got the chance.

 


	10. 9. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The make-up isn't a make-up without smut! :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has kept up with this guilty pleasure of mine. :D I am so happy you all found it enjoyable!
> 
> Another thank you to Saphir for beta-ing this chapter. I don't care how long I have to wait, I still want you to be the first set of eyes that reads this fic. It means a lot to me that you would take time out of your busy schedule to help me with this.

Ch. 9 Redemption

 

 

It had been a week since he'd given her the book, and still nothing. Hope had become a fickle thing now, and he wasn't sure if giving it to her was even the right thing to do. Maybe he should have just left her alone and tried to go back to the life he had before he allowed his heart to bloom with her love. But could he? Not when all he could think about was how much he still wanted to be with her.

 

Varric sighed as he pushed open the door to the bookstore, the merry jingle of the bell irritating him instantly. _Damn this stupid book reading and signing_ , he thought acerbically. What good did it do, when the one person he _wanted_ to read the book obviously hadn't bothered. If Cassandra had, she would have talked to him by now. Whatever. This wasn't the time to pine over a lost love. He had excerpts to read and autographs to write.

 

The owner excitedly came over to shake his hand, and directed him to the table where his books were displayed. “We at Crossroad books graciously welcome you, Mr. Tethras. Can I just say what an honour it is to meet you? Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy day to promote your newest chapter here this evening.”

 

Varric plastered on a smile. “The pleasure is all mine. By the way, this is a great little bookstore you have here.”

 

The owner grinned at his compliment. “Yes indeed, and it has been passed down in the family for three generations,” he boasted as he showed him over to the space where he'd sit and read some of the newest chapter aloud. A comfy chair was at the head of the space, with small fold-up chairs placed around facing it. Varric supposed it would do for what it was intended for.

 

He placed his bag on the floor and flopped down in the leather seat, taking out his own copy of _Swords and Shields_ , marked with yellow post-it notes from the passages he wanted to read aloud. Then, he grabbed the sharpies he had for signing and walked over to the table, placing them in front of the seat that was designated for him. There. Now all he had to do was wait for his fans to arrive.

 

He stood in silence for a moment with his hands on his hips, envisioning himself reading to his prospective audience. People hanging on his every word as his voice flowed around and between them, holding his audience's attention like he had cast a spell over them. A smile grew upon his lips as he brought himself back to the present. He really did enjoy spinning tales for people. Maybe tonight wasn't going to be so bad, after all.

 

The owner came up behind him. “Mr. Tethras, can I offer you a coffee or tea while we wait for your audience to arrive?”

 

He turned. “Yeah, sure. Coffee—black, thanks.”

 

“No problem. I'll be right back.” The older man scooted out of sight.

 

 

' ' ' '

 

 

Varric was in the middle of a passage, reading to a packed bookstore, when he heard the annoying jingle of the door. _A late-comer_ , he thought, irritated, and tried to continue as if the bell hadn't disrupted him. Then came the shuffling of the tardy person, whereupon he looked in the direction of the noise.

 

It was her—Cassandra.

 

Standing and holding his book in her hands, she gave him a brief smile. He couldn't believe his luck. She was here, in the flesh. Cassandra had actually decided to read his book and come to his event.

 

In his surprise, his voice stuttered to a halt as he stared at her, wide-eyed with disbelief. Murmuring from the audience soon had him remembering his task, and he quickly picked up where he left off, allowing himself the odd flick of eyes in her direction. He couldn't wait to talk to ask her if she enjoyed the book, but even more so if she could ever find it in her heart to forgive what happened.

 

With some digging, he had found out how Bianca had seen them together at the awards ceremony and had gotten jealous enough to pull the little stunt that sent Cassandra running. Varric really should have known something like this would happen; he knew Bianca's husband was one of the sponsors for the ceremony, but in his lovestruck state he'd forgotten she'd be there. It was his own fault for not seeking Bianca out and telling her, before allowing himself to get swept up in his adoration for Cassandra. And because of his misjudgment, he had paid the price by losing the one person who mattered the most to him.

 

He hoped that through the newest chapter of _Swords and Shields_ he could be redeemed in some way. He dared to believe that Cassandra would understand that when he found Bianca's lips pressed to his own, it wasn't because he had any sort of feeling left for her, but because he had been so stunned that it took a few moments to register what was happening and push her off.

 

Finishing the final passage, he closed the book and took a sip of water as the audience clapped their appreciation. He was glad for it. Ever since he'd decided on a whim—and a little inspiration from a friend—to enter into the genre of romance, he'd doubted his ability to write a well thought-out love story. He was a crime serial kind of dwarf, after all; it wasn't like he was born with a romantic heart beating in his chest, or anything like that. Truthfully, he was more about plot twists and mystery than romance. But ever since Cassandra had mentioned loving _Swords and Shields,_ he couldn't help but want to continue writing it, especially after she mentioned how upset she'd been about the cliff hanger he left it on. So, he'd deemed it time to try again and finish it—for her.

 

And then shit hit the fan.

 

All the work he'd put into the latest chapter, all of the hours spent trying to think of things _Cassandra_ wanted to see in the next installment were very nearly laid to waste. After she had run out that day, he couldn't even think of trying to finish the book—not with his own heartache looming over him. It was a hollow ambition after she no longer wanted anything to do with him; attempting to finish the newest chapter that recently had so much emotion and intention attached to it, now became devoid as the Antivan drylands. That was until he'd come up with a way to clean up the pile of nug-shit Bianca had left for him.

 

And now Cassandra was sitting and smiling at him once again. His heart soared. She'd forgiven him, that much was obvious. Now, if only he could get away for a moment to talk to her.

 

The owner's voice interrupted his thoughts, turning to Varric. “Thank you, Mr. Tethras, for reading some passages from your latest chapter! It's very exciting stuff.” He then faced the audience, trying to grab their attention. “Now, Mr. Tethras is going to come and sign some of his books for us! If you could kindly make your way to the signing table, he'd be more than happy to autograph them.”

 

Varric smiled and got up out of the comfy chair, his bones still stiff from sitting for so long. Lumbering over to the table, he plopped himself down heavily upon the waiting chair and awaited the mass of fans lining up. Person after person stood in front of him, some excitedly babbling about how much they liked his books, others so star-struck they stayed almost silent in his presence as he wrote his autograph over and over. He was impatient, though.

 

He tried to be courteous—smiling and appearing happy to be with his readers, but his insides were doing acrobatics at the thought of actually being able to see Cassandra again after so long. He could see her now—one of the last people in the queue, leaning out to gauge how long the line was. Varric caught her eye and grinned. She smiled back, her sharp cheekbones blooming with colour. Oh, how he missed making her blush. It was almost more than he could bear. She was only three people away from him now. So very close. Just a few more autographs under the ruse of a smile and he'd be done.

 

Finally, it was her turn.

 

“Cass.” It was more than her name, it was hope itself.

 

“Varric. I read the book.”

 

“I can see that. The real question is… did you like it?”

 

Cassandra's face was like a stone wall, her usual expressive visage blank. But then, a smile grew at the corners of her mouth and her beautiful, bright, walnut eyes crinkled with mirth.

 

“Yes, immensely.” Her face turned serious. “But we should talk. Are you free?”

 

A relieved sigh whooshed out of him. She liked the book, but there was still the task of talking about what happened.

 

“Give me five minutes and I will be. I've just gotta grab my stuff and talk to the owner. Wait for me?”

 

Cassandra nodded.

 

“Good. Won't be long. Promise.”

 

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

 

Cassandra waited by the door for Varric, worry and elation swarming inside of her like a hive of bees. She was insanely happy to see him after all, but also lurking in the bottom of her soul was the fear he would no longer want to pursue what they had because of what her assumptions and pride had broken. It was like she was walking on a tightrope and not knowing if there was a safety net below.

 

Her hands rubbed together awkwardly and she took a shaky breath as Varric approached her.

 

“So,” he clapped his hands together. “Where would you like to go?”

 

“I've got some things to do at home, so perhaps we could go back to mine?”

 

Varric nodded. “Alright, sounds good. My car is in the shop though, so is it okay if I hitch a ride?”

 

“Of course.” Cassandra gave a weak smile and walked out of the bookstore, the bell announcing their departure.

 

Awkwardness hung in the air as they silently walked down the street toward her car, not unlike the first time they had met—with one exception, of course; they had actually crossed the line between friends. That in itself was the reason why this time, it also held an undercurrent of hopeful expectation.

 

She cast her eyes over Varric, who surprisingly kept in step beside her and caught him looking back with a storm of eagerness and doubt clouding his features. She flashed a small smile at the man who had attempted to mend the wound that cut her heart in two. He'd tried, which is more than she had expected. And from what she gathered, it was Bianca who was the instigator in the incident and not him. But it still took a lot of trust to believe what he said and not jump to conclusions. Distrust was forever lingering in her mind, casting a shadow on her thoughts. It was hard to escape it; she wanted to believe him, but didn't quite feel ready to take the leap. Hopefully after they talked, it would clear up any remaining suspicion and they could have a fresh start, one that didn't include his ex-lover.

 

 

' ' ' '

 

Cassandra's keyring jingled as she threaded her key through the lock of the apartment door. Varric was a silent statue behind her, patiently waiting to follow her in. He hadn't said much on the drive over, which wasn't like him at all. Cassandra wondered if it was because he was trying to choose his words wisely or if he genuinely didn't have anything to say in regards to the situation.

 

Allowing the door to swing open, she stepped in and moved through toward the kitchen, dropping her bags upon her red armchair. “Do you want something to drink? Tea, or coffee perhaps?”

 

Varric coughed nervously. “Actually, I was hoping for something a little stronger.”

 

Cassandra nodded and went to find something from her liquor cabinet. Locating some Ferelden scotch, she poured it into two glasses and topped it off with a few ice cubes each.

 

Making her way back out to her living room, a glass clinking in each hand, she found him sitting on her couch with his head in his hands.

 

“Here,” she said, holding a glass out to him. He started. Clearly he'd been tearing himself up about what happened. Some small part of her reveled in it. Good. He'd hurt her and now she could see how sorry he was for it.

 

Varric took the glass and placed it to his lips, taking a large swig of the amber liquid. Placing the glass down on her coffee table, the ice cubes clinked against the crystal glass as he turned to face her while she sat down.

 

“Cass,” he said, pulling both of her hands into his own, “I'd like to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like that. I can't imagine how upset you were, coming in and seeing me locking lips with Bianca. But I want you to know, I didn't instigate anything. I tried to ask her what she was doing in my apartment, but before I knew it, she backed me up against the counter and kissed me. I- I was so stunned, I didn't have the sense to push her off.”

 

A thought came to her. Why in the Maker's name did Bianca choose then, to come and seduce Varric, when he'd already told her he was no longer interested? “What do you suppose spurred her to come and see you then?”

 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “With a little bit of digging, I found out she saw us at the awards ceremony being 'friendly'. I totally forgot her husband is a sponsor, and she must have come along for the ride. Seeing me with you must have sent her into a fit of jealousy.”

 

Cassandra gave a slow nod in understanding. “That makes sense, regardless of how childish it was. I just don't understand why she'd be so possessive of you when she's married; she has no right to get jealous.” Her brow knotted itself in thought, trying to figure out why Bianca had done such a terrible thing. “I thought you told her that it was over… that you didn't want anything more to do with her. You did confront her about that after she was wed, didn't you?”

 

Varric looked at her intently. “Of course I did. I wasn't about to stay on the sidelines while she got the best of both worlds. She tore my heart out and fed it to the dogs after she chose to marry whatshisface. I wasn't about to prolong the suffering—not if I could help it.” A long sigh came out and he rubbed his brow tiredly. “I suspect she figured if she couldn't have me, no one could, and that's why she did what she did: to split us up and make me look like I cheated on you with her. It makes me sick that she did such a thing. I thought she was better than that… I guess I was wrong.”

 

Cassandra brought her hand to his cheek, motioning him to look at her. “Don't worry yourself about it. It doesn't matter what she did, only that we have fixed her mistake.” Then, she bent down and kissed him chastely. It felt so good to be able to kiss him again; she hadn't realized how much she missed being able to do that.

 

A blush moved like a creeping vine, crawling its way from Varric's chest up to rest upon his cheeks. She smiled fondly at his reaction, and bent down to kiss him again, her mouth hovering over his lips, eyes locking with his own. A heartbeat passed, then two, both heavy with passion before she let herself be taken over by it.

 

She sighed as her lips met his, opening her mouth to kiss him deeper. A groan came from him as he pulled her closer, hands wrapping around her waist so that she was flush against him. She needed more. More of his hands upon her, his lips leaving moist trails in their wake—which couldn't be achieved with her twisted the way she was. Swiveling until she straddled his legs, her hands dug themselves into his muscled shoulders. He felt so good beneath her, so right. She'd been a fool to run out on him, and should have stayed instead of fleeing to stand up to Bianca. But hindsight was always 20/20. All she could do was move forward and learn from her mistakes… starting now.

 

Lips met and slid seamlessly together. Hands searched desperately for bare skin, until both of their shirts were pulled off, left in a heap upon her floor.

 

“Bedroom,” she panted out against his stubbled throat, desperate to get somewhere that was more comfortable than her couch.

 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Varric groaned over her shoulder, his voice pouring out like sand on silk. In one swift movement, he hoisted them up off the couch and began moving them toward her room. She let out a squeak in surprise. Never had she thought him weak by any means, but she hadn't expected him to carry her off as if she weighed as light as a feather.

 

The bed dipped beneath her as she was placed down upon it, Varric hanging over her with a smile that could make a sailor blush. She scooted backward to give him room upon the bed until fluffy, cloud-like pillows were pressed against her back. He crawled after her, his heated gaze making it hard for her to breathe.

 

“You're perfection. Everything I could ever want and more... but I want to make sure,” Varric swallowed thickly, “if this is something you want. That I'm not forcing you to go too fast. It is okay, isn't it?”

 

A coquettish smile grew on her lips and Cassandra looked at him affectionately. “If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have mentioned taking it to the bedroom, Varric.”

 

He gave a gruff chuckle. “Right. I figured, but wanted to make sure. A guy can never be to careful, you know.”

 

“Varric?”

 

“Yes sweetheart?”

 

“Shut up and kiss me.” Cassandra's hands gripped tightly to his strong biceps, pulling him down to press her lips hungrily against his own. They writhed and rutted against each other, fueling the burning desire that left an impossible ache between her thighs. She needed more, wanted to feel Varric moving inside her. She couldn't bear it any longer.

 

“Varric,” she gasped out in desperation as he worked his silver tongue over each hardened nipple, “pants, _Now.”_

 

She watched as his eyes, shining bright with the fires of desire, flicked up to look at her through the valley of her breasts. “Is that any way to ask for something, Cass? I could have sworn that there should've been a magic word in there somewhere.”

 

“Please,” Cassandra begged, as he licked and nipped his way up her chest.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

Varric grinned against her collarbone. “Now, was that so hard?” His hands made their way over the taut plains of her abdomen, hovering over her bellybutton for a moment before he undid her jeans and slid them off of her legs. He gazed lovingly at her—she was absolutely gorgeous; her body reclining against the soft pillows, chest heaving, and eyes filled with want.

 

“You're a goddess, Cass, and you deserve to be worshiped. Allow me to show you just how much.”

 

She gave a slow nod, half-lidded eyes watching him brazenly as he slid down her body to rest between her hips. His fingers found the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them off, admiring her body as it was laid bare before him. Ancestors, she was but a sight to behold.

 

He started slow, deliberate. Letting the rough hairs on his chin graze across her belly, kissing her hip bones with the most delicate of touches and stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs with the pads of his thumbs. The air was soon filled with her satin-like gasps as he caressed everywhere but where she needed it most. He wanted to ensure her absolute pleasure in this—taking his time was the only way.

 

Heated moans took over, and he knew she was nearly ready. His hands slid under each thigh and pulled her legs over each shoulder, causing her hips to open up to him. He stared up at her for a moment. Her dewy form glowed in the dim light, breasts heaving and a seductive look set in her eyes. She was more beautiful than words could express.

 

Varric blew out a warm breath over her center and was rewarded with a shuddering gasp. Another two breaths ghosted out, this time coaxing out a wail of both frustration and pleasure from her parted lips. Testing the waters, his tongue gave a long, wet lick between her folds, flicking softly at the pearl crowning her womanhood. Cassandra's hips bucked violently at the touch.

 

“Easy now, sweetheart. Wouldn't want me to end up knocked out, would you?”

 

“No,” Cassandra breathed out, her voice dripping with arousal.

 

“Good.” He grinned. “Now where were we? … ah, yes,” he said, leaving a kiss just above her pubic bone. “Right about... here.” His hands wrapped around her thighs firmly, holding her steadfast as he dipped down to taste her again. It was exquisite, like nothing he'd experienced. Sure, he'd gone down on women before, but they were of the dwarven persuasion. This—this was something new entirely. She tasted like the spray of the sea after a storm, mixed with something that was entirely her own—nothing like what he'd experienced with women of his own kind. They seemed to have a stronger taste that often had turned bitter in his mouth which must have had something to do with coming from the stone, he figured. But now, having experienced the delicate taste of Cassandra… well, he wasn't sure if he could ever go back.

 

He lapped hungrily at her until she rocked and moaned herself into a frenzy, purposely not giving much attention to the glistening bundle of nerves that peaked between her legs. He wanted to make certain of her satisfaction, after all. And, if he was honest with himself, he was enjoying watching her twist and turn in pleasure, knowing it came from his own efforts. He gave a glance up. Her usual raven-feather hair hung in wet strands upon her forehead, and her eyes were shut as if in prayer. He couldn't help but let out a growl—looking like that did things to him, with her lips shaped into a perfect 'o' and hands clutched desperately at the sheets on either side of her.

 

He needed to see her come undone beneath him. It burned in his veins, nearly catching him alight with it. Varric moved quickly. He sucked her sensitive nub into his mouth and lavished it with attention, flicking it with his tongue and grazing it with his teeth as she came sobbing his name.

 

Oh how he could spend his days listening to her like that—screaming his name in ecstasy.

 

Once her wails had diminished into breathy sighs, he was pulled up her body.“Fuck,” he ground out, voice muffled as he buried himself against the column of her neck. She certainly knew how to drive a man wild. Varric couldn't take it anymore. He needed to be inside of her. Removing himself from her warm body, Varric undid his pants with shaking hands, desperate to feel her warmth surrounding his cock.

 

Her hands slipped over his own, stilling them. “Allow me,” Cassandra purred as she looked longingly into his eyes. There was so much adoration and love there, he felt his heart nearly burst with the force of it. Varric swallowed dryly and nodded. How could he find it in his will to ever deny her anything again when she looked at him like that? Boy, he was in trouble now.

 

Varric let his hands drop. Her hands made quick work of his button and zipper, slipping her soft warm fingers under the waistband of his boxers. His breath caught as she took hold of him and smiled coyly, giving him a couple of lazy strokes.

 

“Shit,” he hissed, closing his eyes while the feeling of pleasure washed over him. It had been too long since he'd enjoyed someone else's touch on his cock. Much too long.

 

Her hand pulled away, and with it he let out a groan of disappointment. Varric opened his eyes.

 

“Let's get a bit more comfortable, shall we?” Cassandra murmured, playing with the pants he still wore.

 

Varric didn't need to be told twice. He stood up in a flash, the bed bouncing with his quick movements, and shed the offending trousers and boxers in record time, allowing his manhood to spring free from its confines proudly. He flicked the remaining clothes off the bed with his foot, shaking the bed as they fell to the floor in a heap.

 

He glanced in her direction while his pants went flying. Her pretty pink tongue darted out and licked her lips hungrily. Arousal shot through him like a lightning bolt. Fuck, the things he could imagine her doing with her mouth almost sent him over the edge. He wanted to show her how much he adored her, and that wouldn't happen if she kept doing things like that.

 

Before he knew what was happening, her hands grabbed at his hips and pulled him closer, urging him to kneel back down on the bed. One quick kiss is all he was granted before she flipped him onto his back, the breath whooshing out of him. He looked up at her, startled, not quite sure what had happened.

 

That's when her wet, hot tongue slipped out and gave his length a long lick from base to tip. His head dropped back on the pillows as he let out a shuddering moan. Ancestors, there was nothing he wanted more than to have her lips upon his manhood this very instant. She was teasing him—the very same way he teased her, and hot damn, did he find it sexy.

 

Varric's fingers gripped at the sheets, anticipating when she'd allow her mouth to caress him again. A warm breath blew out on the wet stripe of saliva she'd left, making his toes curl and a choked moan fall out of his open mouth. He heard her chuckle seductively, low and sultry before her mouth was upon him. Her tongue licked and swirled over the crown of his manhood as her hand pumped slowly up and down. If she kept this up, he wasn't entirely sure if he could hold himself back. He'd have to take his mind off the feeling for a bit if he wanted to end up making love to her properly. He tried thinking of cleaning his apartment, of the things he needed to get at the grocery store, anything that would keep his orgasm at bay. It was working too, but Cassandra decided to nearly swallow him whole and he involuntarily bucked into her mouth, his vision darkening. He was so close. He needed to have her.

 

As soon as she pulled back he tugged her back up his body until she was at eye level. “Cass,” he rasped out, “I don't think I can last much longer.”

 

“Then I won't keep you waiting, my love. You shall have me,” she sang out, “but first, I want you to do something for me. I need you to sit up. Can you do that?”

 

Varric gave a quick nod and got himself into a sitting position, the soft, downy feel of the pillows at his back. “This alright?”

 

“Perfect. Now are you ready?”

 

Varric gave her a knowing look, his mouth creeping into a cocky smirk. “Do you really have to ask me that, sweetheart? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you already know the answer.”

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes fondly and moved until she was seated above Varric, legs spread into a kneeling position on either side of his thighs, hovering just above his painfully aroused cock. Any moment now, his length would push inside of her and he could loose himself to the pleasure her body gave him. This was not some ordinary sex though. It was more than that. For the first time in Varric's life, it wasn't one sided or conditional. It was full of love and devotion—he knew Cassandra felt the same way. She was in love with him as much as he was her; he felt it in her caresses and her concern. It made his heart leap for joy and a funny fluttering move about in his stomach.

 

They looked into each others eyes, thoughts and words conveying silently what spoken words never could. All that mattered was just the two of them, in the moment, showing their love for each other.

 

~TtS~

 

 

Cassandra took a moment to bask in all the love Varric held in his eyes. It had been so long since she'd seen affection like that mirrored back at her that she had almost missed it; it was his smile that had caught her attention. It wasn't like his usual wry smirk, but an honest and sincere one; the true Varric was indeed beaming back at her. It made her heart skip a beat, seeing the devotion and love brimming over in his titanite eyes, and in that moment, she knew—he was the one.

 

She kissed him hard then, full of all-consuming passion, as she slid a hand down and wrapped it around his silky length. A rough-as-rocks groan filled her ears as she positioned him at her entrance and sunk slowly down, her head rolling back as her hands gripped at his shoulders. A moan fell out as she sheathed herself fully, and her legs shook with the strain of stretching wide.

 

Varric's manhood twitched inside her, nearly begging to move, but he stayed still regardless. “You alright up there, sweetheart?”

 

Cassandra nodded. There was something to be said for pain mixed with the pleasure. It sent small shock waves radiating out over her body that prickled at her skin. She took a deep breath and then another. Testing the waters, she moved slightly and nearly cried out as a ripple of ecstasy crested within her. Oh, she'd forgotten how good it felt to be joined like this. Her head fell forward onto his shoulder as she panted out blasphemous things upon his skin.

 

She slowly rocked her hips back and forth again and was rewarded blissfully. She began to move in earnest, her moans mixed with Varric's rough sighs, creating a seductive chant that pulled her in further as she rolled her hips. Before she knew it, the sweet blissful ache of her impending orgasm had coiled itself tighter and tighter. Varric's strong arms clung desperately to her body, sweat dripping from his brow as he nuzzled and sucked at her dusky nipples, hungrily. She couldn't take it. The slowed pace was becoming agonizing. Harder and faster was the only way. She needed to feel the flood of bliss only he could provide.

 

All at once she stopped, and Varric looked up, dazed and confused.

 

“Something wrong?” he panted out, as sweat dripped down his temple.

 

“No—well, not exactly…”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Varric frowned, puzzled.

 

“No, you're not taking my meaning,” Cassandra sighed, and let her head hang for a moment before flicking her eyes back to his. “Thank you for your kind consideration, but you don't have to worry about hurting me. I can take it.”

 

“What?”

 

Cassandra groaned. “I want you to fuck me, Varric. You've demonstrated how much you adore me through our lovemaking, but right now I would like to be fucked. Can you do that?”

 

Varric's mouth hung agape. It took a few moments for him to answer, but when he did, she wasn't at all disappointed. “Yes, ma'am,” he said with a bonefied smirk.

 

He lifted her off of his lap and deposited her onto the bed. “Get on all fours.”

 

Cassandra found a strange thrill to have him order her about. The excitement of it all sent a shiver up her spine as she did as she was told.

 

“Now, rest your head on the bed.” His broad hand urged her shoulders down, until she felt the blankets under her hair. His hands roamed possessively over her ass; he grabbed at it and tenderly gave it a slap. A whine slid out of her mouth, half muffled by the bedsheets. He was stalling. “Hurry up, dwarf. I don't want to wait much longer.”

 

Suddenly, his manhood rammed into her, sending a loud gasp flying from her lips. “Yes,” she choked out as he pulled back out, nearly removing himself completely, only to slam himself deep within her again. Varric didn't waste time, deciding on a break-neck pace; a fever-pitch quickly fell over them as their bodies pounded together, wails and groans hanging heavily in the air as they raced toward their release.

 

As much as she enjoyed making love to Varric, this was exactly what she wanted—his cock pounding into her, hands rough on her back, tugging at her hair. It felt amazing.

 

She was close now, so close. It was as if Varric was pulling a string that held her together, and was moments away from letting it all unravel at his feet.

 

A burst of sensation happened upon her then, sending white-hot rapture surging through her. She came loudly, his name shouted out into the dimly lit room as if it were the most sacred of things, a veneration of the love they now shared. Her back arched like a drawn bow, and technicolor stars shined and twinkled brightly, clouding her vision. Ecstasy at its finest.

 

She felt Varric spill into her seconds later, grunts and growls tumbling into one another with each wild buck of his hips, sending sensual aftershocks through her, rippling like a pond. It felt magnificent. Her body was warm and tingling, heavy and satiated.

 

Varric rolled onto his side and wrapped his brawny arms around her, encasing her in a cocoon of love. This was where she was meant to be, safe and happy in his arms. There was nothing better.

 

They stayed like that for a while, curled together and content, the rise and fall of their chests the only sign of movement.

 

Finally, Varric sighed and made to move from his spot behind her. “I- I should probably go.”

 

Cassandra turned in Varric's arms, her expression morphing into alarm. “Please. Stay,” she said and pressed her palm to his rough cheek.

 

“You sure, sweetheart? I- I would hate for you to wake up and regret that decision come morning. I mean, I've been told I snore, and I would feel so bad for interrupting your beauty sleep.”

 

Cassandra chuckled warmly. “If I can deal with Leliana's birds chirping at all hours, I can certainly deal with a little snoring from you.”

 

“Alright, I'll stay. But don't say I didn't warn you.” Varric grinned and gave her a peck on the nose, then snuggled closer, wrapping his arm around her waist.

 

“Good. Sleep tight, my love,” Cassandra murmured while she rolled over, his broad chest now pressed against the smooth expanse of her back. He was so warm, it felt like she was against a furnace—not unlike when she would cuddle next to Regalyan. It was a strange and familiar sensation all at once, as if déja vu had happened upon her. In truth, it had been an age since she'd had someone she loved share her bed. But the way Varric had curled up around her seemed to fill the longing for what she'd lost these past few years. It was a comfort in itself to know that he'd still be there come morning, not just some figment of her imagination in a dream, but flesh and blood. The thought of waking up next to Varric sent a shiver of excitement running down her spine as an unabashed smile grew on her lips. She thought of how he would nuzzle into her neck to gently rouse her from slumber, his whiskered cheek bristling across her skin as he greeted her for the day with a smile and a kiss. Nothing could compare to waking up like that. She wanted nothing more than to live the rest of her life like that. Being woken up by Varric every day was a tempting idea to say the least, and perhaps it even had a chance at reality. She sighed deeply at the thought, locking it away in the hidden part of her mind as she listened to the wheezy grumbling of Varric's gentle snoring. In no time at all, it had her eyes drooping heavily as tiredness took hold. There was no sense in staying awake, and Cassandra let her eyes flutter shut, allowing the warmth and soft wheezing coming from Varric to lull her to sleep.

 

That night, instead of the nightmares that often plagued her dreams, Cassandra dreamt of the cocky dwarven man who had taken her breath away and stolen her heart.

 

 


	11. A Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* This chapter includes the death of a catalyst character, and mentioning of a car crash.

 

 

It had been three months since they'd decided to try again. Three glorious months full of things Cassandra—only until recently—had dared to long for. It was full of sleepy morning kisses, passionate nights, and better companionship than she could have ever asked for. It wasn't without its rough patches of course, but instead of being truly angry when a spat came about, she felt invigorated by it—no matter how irritating Varric could make himself out to be at the time. Cassandra knew what this meant. She was in love. Her soul had decidedly taken flight and nothing could take away the happiness she felt.

 

Until today.

 

She was in the middle of her show when it happened. The weather had changed quickly; the wind collecting clouds like a child not willing to share and the resulting rain was coming down in sheets—a summer storm was on the horizon. The streets, now extremely slick with rain and oil being brought to the surface, made it a particularly bad day for driving. Cassandra's boss and friend, Dorothea, was supposed to be coming in to have their quarterly meeting for the radio station. From what Cassandra had later heard, Dorothea was trying to make a right hand turn when a car came flying through the intersection and slammed into the driver's side. Her car was subsequently pushed into a traffic light pole, crumpling the vehicle in half and killing her on impact. But that wasn't the worst part. The person who had such little thought to the sanctity of life had the audacity to flee the scene. A coward—in both action and morals, to be sure.

 

It wasn't until after her show that she found all this out, of course. Leliana's face was that of a lost child—all tear stained and bleak-looking, peering through the door to the booth as Cassandra finished her segment. Instantly, she knew something was amiss. Leliana never looked like that unless something was seriously wrong. In fact, the last time she'd seen her with such an expression clouding her face was when she told Leliana Anthony was dead.

 

Oh no.

 

That was it—what made Leliana look so wilted and mournful. Someone had died. Her first panicked thought flew to Varric. No. Not him. Please not him. Her hands were a flurry of motion as she flung her headphones off and rushed to open the door, her face blanching to a milky white and her body beginning to shake with fear.

 

“Who?” She rasped, barely containing the uncertainty and sorrow that was threatening to drown her.

 

Leliana motioned to a chair in the booth. “You should sit… in fact, we both should.”

 

“Fine,” was all Cassandra managed to get out, the word clawing its way up her throat. She lowered herself down into the chair, trying desperately to calm the sea of emotions rolling within, not really registering that Leliana had pulled up the spare seat until she was directly in front of her.

 

“It's Dorothea. There… was an accident.” Leliana's hands weaved themselves around Cassandra's palm, a lifeline holding fast to a survivor in a storm.

 

_Varric was alive._ Cassandra took solace in that. But what of Dorothea? Was she hurt badly?

 

Leliana’s face hardened drastically. “I know you don’t like it when people pussyfoot around, so I’m just going to come out and tell you. She’s dead.”

 

Shock sucked the air from her. Dorothea was dead? How could something happen like this to someone so undeserving? Cassandra steeled her emotions. “How?—and don't spare the details Leliana. I want to know everything.”

 

“She was hit on the passenger side by an oncoming car, forcing her car into a traffic pole.”

 

Cassandra's hands tugged themselves out of Leliana's grasp to scrub at her face, trying to scour away the tears which were running down her cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Of all the people who could have—should have—died, why did the Maker choose her? She owed everything to Dorothea. If she hadn’t seen her potential, Cassandra could honestly say she would have no idea where she would have ended up. Dorothea had been a blessing in disguise, and now she was gone.

 

Cassandra's faith wavered like the flame of a candle in that moment. Why did the Maker have to take her like that? Didn’t Dorothea deserve the right to die in her bed at the ripe old age of ninety instead of the atrocity that had befallen her? What was so important that He needed to take her in such a way? It didn’t seem right, but then again, who was she to judge? If the Maker needed her, then this must have been all part of His plan, regardless of how horrific and dismal the situation appeared right now. Cassandra didn’t much like it, but she needed to keep faith that it was meant to be.

 

She swallowed thickly and let out a scratchy groan, attempting to regain her composure. “And what of the person who did this? Has he been detained?”

 

“Ah—well,” Leliana averted her gaze and fiddled with a loose string on her sleeve, “I was informed that they fled the scene.”

 

Cassandra gasped, horrified. “What?!”

 

Cassandra saw Leliana notably flinch at her outburst and as if to cover her tracks, she quickly added, “ _But_! The authorities assure me that they couldn’t have gotten far and should have them in custody very soon.”

 

Cassandra felt hot rage, even in the incandescent light of the booth. “You mean to tell me they left the scene without an iota of concern for the person they had just harmed?!” In an instant she was standing, body thrumming with anger while her fists tightened in on themselves, knuckles white with strain.

 

“Now Cassandra,” Leliana started, placing a gentle hand on either side of her arm to try and calm her, “there is nothing we can do right now. Just have faith that this person will be caught and convicted. That’s all we can do.”

 

Cassandra sneered. “Really, that’s all we can do, is have faith that he will be caught? You’ve got to be joking Leliana. Look what happened to Anthony. You must see why I can’t just ‘have faith’ that the police will miraculously catch the person who did this. Anthony was a cop, for the Maker’s sake, and they still haven’t found all of the people responsible for his death.”

 

“Please, Cassandra, don’t do anything rash. Look,” Leliana stepped back to give Cassandra some space, “give them 48 hours. That’s all I ask. Then, if they haven’t found the person responsible and you still feel the need to take maters into your own hands, I won’t stop you.”

 

“Fine. 48 hours and no more,” Cassandra said, scowling something fiercely and pushing past Leliana. She opened the door to the booth with more strength than needed, and let it slam shut on her way out.

 

~TtS~

 

“Oh Sweetheart, I’m so sorry to hear that happened. Are you alright? Do you want me to come over?” Varric’s concerned voice flowed through the receiver.

 

Cassandra caught herself. She would normally say she was fine, even though she wasn’t. But this was her lover. He of all people had the potential to understand her sorrow, especially since he also had watched someone close be taken from him.

 

“Yes,” Cassandra managed, her voice unusually quiet.

 

“Alright, I’ll be over in fifteen.”

 

“See you soon my love.”

 

“See you soon. And in case I haven’t said it today, I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

~TtS~

 

Varric made it over to Cassandra’s house in record time, and soon found himself at her door with some flowers. He was hoping that in some small way it would help ease the pain of losing her friend.

 

His knuckles rapped against the hard wood of the door, a deep hollow sound announcing his arrival. Moments later, the brass knob turned and Cassandra’s wary face stared back at him.

 

She gave him a tired smile. “Hello.”

 

“Hey. How you holding up?” Varric’s eyes searched her face, worriedly.

 

Cassandra stepped aside. “As well as can be expected. Come in.”

 

Varric moved across the threshold and placed the items down on the table by the door. He turned back to her, instantly pulling her close to him, hands wrapping tight around her waist. Her breath came out in shaky sighs against his hair as they stood there in silence. He knew she wasn’t handling this well, regardless of how things appeared.

 

“It’s going to be alright Cass. They’ll find that nug-humping bastard and put him behind bars. Dorothea will have her justice. Now, you go sit on the couch and I’ll be right back. I’m just going to put the flowers in the kitchen and then I’ll make us some tea.”

 

She nodded against his shoulder.

 

“And after, I’ll even run a bath for you, how does that sound?”

 

He felt her breath tickle his ear. “Thank you,” She whispered before moving slowly to to curl up on the couch, pulling up the red throw around herself like a shield.

 

After the tea was brewed, Varric slipped back into the living room finding Cassandra staring off into space, the red throw accentuating how sallow she had become. _Had she eaten anything,_ he wondered. _Taking a guess, she hadn’t._

 

The cup made a dull thud against the coffee table as he placed it down on the hard wood. “You hungry?”

 

“What?” Cassandra started at Varric's question, his words pulling her out of her own thoughts with a jolt.

 

“Have you eaten anything today?”

 

Realization rippled over her features. “Well, no…but I can assure you I'm fine. I'm not hungry.”

 

Varric frowned at her admission. “That's not the point. I know you. I can tell you haven't eaten for most of the day, Cass. That's not good.”

 

“What does it matter? Like I said, I'm not hungry.” Cassandra snapped at him.

 

“I'm not buying it,” Varric said calmly as he took the throw from her. “I'll order us something while you're in the bath. That way it will be here for you when you get out of the tub. Sound good?”

 

He watched the irritation flare in her eyes for a moment before she relented and nodded silently, her raven hair falling gracefully across her brow.

 

_Well, at least she's not openly arguing. I'll take the nod over that any day._ Varric held out his hands to her. “Lets get that bath started, shall we?”

 

Varric was met with an eye roll and another groan, but Cassandra complied. “Fine,” she said with an exasperated sigh, as he pulled her up onto her feet. Dropping one of her hands, he gently led her toward the bathroom, the cups of hot tea all but forgotten.

 

~TtS~

 

Varric was right. She did feel better after getting into the bath. Tendrils of steam rose up and wrapped around her like a hug. The near-scalding heat was working its magic too—easing the grief and strain from her body as she soaked. Cassandra shut her eyes and sighed, sinking lower down into the suds.

 

Of all the things that could happen, she never expected it to turn out this way. Dorothea’s life had been brutally

been taken by some—no doubt—scum of a person and now the fate of the radio station hung in the balance. Moreover, what would happen to her job? Suppose the station was to be sold and bought by new owners who didn’t like the type of programming that it currently had? All of the blood, sweat and tears to become a successful radio host would have been for nothing. And she honestly couldn’t think of moving to another station—it would feel like being unfaithful to her friend. Over the years, and through plenty of occasions, she had had a chance to schmooze with other radio show hosts and station owners. None held the same degree of sophistication or rapport that Dorothea had.

 

A meow floated above the bubbling soap and Cassandra looked up to see Cailan perched on the toilet seat, and grooming one of his front paws. She smiled at the majestic beast of a cat sitting so regally until Varric came plodding in to hand her the forgotten tea. He shooed him off of the toilet seat lid, and sat in Cailan’s place.

 

Cassandra observed Varric silently. She could tell he was thinking about something by the way his brow furrowed and the tight grip on his mug as he took a sip.

 

“What are you thinking about, my love?”

 

Varric turned at her voice. “Well...” he started, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Honestly, I’m just curious about what happens now.”

 

Cassandra looked questioningly at him. “How do you mean?”

 

“Don’t be mad—I’m not trying to be insensitive here, it’s just my practical head over-thinking things I’m sure, but... look, I may not know a lot, but I know the radio biz. The old girl didn’t have any family clear at hand to inherit her holdings, right?”

 

Cassandra frowned. “Where is this going, Varric?”

 

Varric let out an impatient sigh and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, it means that under all the show of mourning, the upper echelon of the station are probably running around like the sky just ripped open and started raining green light and demons out of its ass. They’ll need direction now that Dorothea’s gone—a new direction that you could be part of,” Varric imparted to her, his eyes bright with insistence, urging her to see the logic in

the situation. “The reality is, you and I have no clue what the committee has lined up for the hosts and general staff. For all we know, they could sack half of them and bring in people that they deem more suitable to their tastes. Show them that you want to stay and are a vital part of that station... if not for yourself, for Dorothea’s sake. She’d want you to, and you know it.”

 

No matter how upset she was, Varric did have a point.

 

Cassandra relented. “You’re right. Dorothea would have wanted that for me... but what if they decide to change the entire outlook of the station to something I do not agree with? How could I stay if it contends with my own convictions?”

 

Varric gave a short chuckle before standing. “You’ve always been the sort not to take things lying down, Cass. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She watched him rise from his perch, walk over to her and stop, and squeeze her arm. As a final reassurance, he left her with a kiss to the top of her head and took his leave, the soft click of the door sounding behind him. Cassandra began to stare blankly at the bathroom wall, alone with her thoughts once again.

 

~TtS~

 

The rain came down heavy and hard, nearly drowning out the Pastor’s voice and soaking into every corner of Varric’s coat as they stood in the middle of the cemetery among what must be the old girl’s friends, work colleagues, and family. Of course, he could have just asked for his umbrella back, but he wasn’t that heartless—Cass and Leliana needed it more than he did. He snuck a glance to the side. They were huddled together, Leliana dabbing at her eyes and nose with a tissue and Cass stone-faced, white-knuckling the handle of the umbrella as if she were afraid it would vanish into thin air. To anyone else she looked unmoved by the whole event, but he knew the truth. He had seen first-hand how hard she had been taking it.

 

Inconspicuously, he reached for her free hand and gave it a squeeze. He was met with a stiff smile and the feeling of pressure being reciprocated upon his own hand. Seconds later, her reddened, chilled hand dropped back to her side.

 

“...The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world, and onto the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go towards light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.” The thick, Starkheaven accent of the pastor rolled over Varric. It was a somber but reassuring sound, he noted, and hoped it would feel just as reassuring to Cassandra and Leliana in their time of need.

 

Thick drops of rain splashed upon the casket and dripped down the honeyed wood, disappearing into the depths of the dug-out hole below. Even the world seemed to be crying for the loss of Dorothea, it seemed. Too right it should. From what Cassandra had said about her, Dorothea was a gem who always saw the potential in people. She also wasn’t afraid to tell someone the truth when they most needed it either. Come to think of it, Hawke was pretty much the same; he was always there to help you realize what you were capable of, but smart enough to tell you where to shove it if things got out of hand.

 

Up until he had met Hawke, he’d just assumed that what everyone else said about him was true, to some extent. They’d roll their eyes and sneer as they’d pass by him, taking him for nothing more than an egotistical ass. For years, he had ignored it and continued on, not caring about what they said. But, at his lowest point, after Bianca broke his heart—he started to believe it. Then, he met Hawke and all that changed. Through their budding friendship, he saw that Hawke believed him to be an all-around decent guy. Much more to his surprise, Varric actually tried to live up to Hawke’s expectations. Sure, the mask of sarcastic egotism was still there, but Varric now saw it for what it really was—skin deep. It did not make up all of who he was, but only part of it. Through Hawke’s help, he started to understand that he was inherently good, no matter what mask he chose to let the world see.

 

As icy rivulets of water snuck under his collar, he realized that that sarcastic asshole part of him was starting to crack and crumble. Ever since that fated meeting at the Herald’s Rest, he had seen a change within his own closely-guarded persona, and Cassandra was the catalyst. The things he used to care greatly about no longer seemed worth his time. The gambling, the parties, the thrill of going live on the radio—none of them seemed to intrigue him like they used to. All he really seemed to care about was the woman standing next to him, who was currently putting her own grief aside to console her friend. Not because it was convenient, but because it was the right thing to do. And he’d be damned if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 

In that moment, he came to the realization that Hawke was the one who had shown him that he didn’t always have to be selfish and shallow—but Cassandra, dearest Cassandra had been the one to show him what real love was. And not just because of her striking beauty or the way she made him feel. Not when he’d wake up feeling her arms snake around his torso in the middle of the night, or the way she made him laugh for being too stuck on himself. It was because of this simple act that lay before him. The act in which this woman, a woman who normally would like nothing more than to take quick and deadly action against the guilty party, instead offered tissues to her best friend while wrapping her arm comfortingly around her. The unexpected gentleness that Cassandra exhibited simply blew him away. Not only that, but it was doing funny things to his heart as he watched her show such kindness, knowing in his heart of hearts she’d do it for him too, just because she loved him.

 

And by the ancestors, he loved her back. There it was, plain and simple. Cassandra had shown him just how wrong he had been to think that love was selfish and unequal, no matter what the situation. Love _could_ be equal and maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to show her that he was the man she thought him to be.

 

Movement suddenly flashed in the corner of Varric’s eye, dragging him away from his thoughts. He watched Leliana bend over and lay a single red rose upon the casket. When she stepped back, he heard her stifle a sob in the crumpled tissue she gripped in her hand. Cassandra’s arm squeezed Leliana’s bicep, pulling her close, into her shoulder. His heart broke for them both. They had just lost a trusted friend and mentor, and here he stood, feeling like a helpless dope. But what could he do? It wasn’t as if he could change what had happened, no matter how much he wished he could. But maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe he didn’t have to move mountains for them...maybe all he needed to do was show them he cared, and he was there to listen if they needed it.

 

Dorothea was finally laid to rest.

 

The three of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, staring at the gaping hole as it swallowed up the casket. People began to disperse in small groups, two or three black figures at a time, walking through the orange tree leaves and the green of the cemetery grass, until finally, they were the only ones left standing at the grave site.

 

Varric cleared his throat. “Hey, I don’t suppose you ladies would like to get out of this rain and have some coffee at my place? Save us having to watch the grave diggers finish their work...”

 

Cassandra shot daggers at him with her eyes. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words.

 

Leliana sniffed. “Varric is right,” she said, dabbing at her running eyes and nose. “I would rather prefer to get out of this dreadful rain and have some coffee at his place, than watch her be laid to rest.”

 

“Alright. I’ll help you to the car,” Cassandra sighed out, still holding onto Leliana like a stone belfry holding up a wilted flower.

 

Varric turned and watched them for a few moments as they plodded towards his vehicle. Then, sauntering down after them—sopping wet and feeling like a drowned cat—he watched Cassandra embrace Leliana, wrapping her arms protectively around her. Cassandra then opened the door for her grieving friend, allowing her her enough time to look back at the grave one last time. With a slight nod, Leliana finally got in and Cassandra shut the door behind her. The black umbrella, which was still clasped tight in her fingers, had cast a dark shadow over her face as her exotic features arranged themselves in an expression of inner thought.

 

Varric’s hand came to gently rest on her elbow. “You sure you’re alright? It’s okay to let it out, you know. I’m sure Leliana won’t judge you for it, and neither will I.”

 

She turned and looked at him, startled by his seemingly sudden appearance. “I’m fine, my love. Besides, I believe Leliana has done enough crying for us both today,” she said, her features changing like quicksilver into a fleeting smile. “Oh,” Cassandra exclaimed after a few moments of silence, “I also wanted to thank you for coming. It means a lot to me to have you here.”

 

A melancholy smile spread across his lips. “Any time,” he conceded, taking both her hands in his, “that’s a promise, by the way. You can always count on me, you know that, right?”

 

Cassandra gave a silent nod in agreement.

 

“Good. Now, shall we go warm ourselves up?” Varric questioned as he opened the front passenger door for her.

 

Cassandra shivered. “Yes, lets. It’s much too cold to be standing out here talking. Besides, you look like you’re in need of some dry clothes.”

 

“Ha! That noticeable, huh?” Varric smirked and shut the door, feeling a shudder rise and travel like lightning up his back. “I just hope that I don’t end up sick because of this,” he muttered to himself as an afterthought, rounding the back of the car. Varric opened the driver’s side door of Bianca and slipped in, wiping droplets of rainwater from his slick face. In no time, the car had defrosted, and they slowly made their way back to the busy streets of Skyhold, the cemetery and Dorothea’s burial a memory, a lingering vice planted fresh their minds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Answered Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter has yet to be beta'd, but I will update as soon as it has. I just couldn't wait to get it up here XD*
> 
> Thank you so so much everyone who read this, I couldn't have finished this without all your encouragement and love. This chapter is very late in being posted, but I've done my best to rectify the situation. I hope you all like it! 
> 
> I own nothing but the words, all characters are property of EA/Bioware. 
> 
> enjoy, 
> 
> MRTL85

11\. Answered Prayers

 

 

 

A knock resounded off Cassandra’s office door. “Come in,” she declared, not lifting her eyes from the page she was writing on.

 

The receptionist cleared her throat. “Sorry to disturb, but this gentleman wanted to see you.” Cassandra’s eyes flicked up as soon as the words had hit her ears and caught sight of a bearded man in a suit, complete with briefcase.

 

He stretched out a hand. “Good afternoon, my name is Thom Rainier.”

 

She eyed him suspiciously. “Nice you meet you Mr. Rainier, I’m Cassandra Pentaghast. What can I do for you?”

 

“Well, I am actually here on behalf of Dorothea. She spoke very highly of you and Leliana.” He turned then to face the receptionist. “Could you by any chance find her as well? She should also be here for this.”

 

A curious glance flitted over the features of the receptionist before she gave a nod and left the room, the door closing quietly behind her. It took her a few moments, but his words finally caught up with her. “On behalf of Dorothea? What is this about?” Before Rainier could actually return her query with an answer, Leliana opened the door to Cassandra’s office, giving them both a start.

 

Leliana’s eyes flitted back between Cassandra and the bearded man questioningly, her hand still upon the door as she asked,“I was told you wanted to see me?”

 

Cassandra nodded and crossed her arms, flicking her gaze at the man before her. “Well, go on then.”

 

Taking that as enough of an invitation to intrude, Leliana stepped over the threshold and closed the door gently behind her, choosing to sit in one of the chairs placed in front of Cassandra’s desk.

 

“Right. Might I use your desk for a moment,” Rainier asked and Cassandra moved to allow him the space, seating herself next to Leliana. The sharp snap of his briefcase flicked open and closed in an instant, only obscuring his face for a moment before moving it out of the way. Then, he placed a manila folder on the desk and opened it and finding the page he was looking for, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Like I was telling Cassandra before you entered Leliana, I am here on behalf of Dorothea. I was her lawyer and I have come to see you both in regards to her last will and testament.”

 

Cassandra watched as her friend frown in confusion at the man and bite at her lip, just as she had done moments before. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“Well,” he said, leaning over the desk and folding his hands upon the papers in front of him, “Since she has no immediate family to speak of, it appears she has left you both equal shares in this radio station, as stated in her will.”

 

All Cassandra could do was stare in disbelief at what the man said. She blinked a few times and finding her mouth agape, decided to close it out of decency. She was in shock. By Andraste’s grace, what had just transpired? She was about to become part owner of a fairly profitable radio business. This was remarkable. Even at the Maker’s side, Dorothea was looking out for both Leliana and herself, it seemed.

 

Leliana gave a surprised laugh. “Pardon me, but I thought I just heard you say that our friend Dorothea just left us both this radio station? You can’t be serious.”

 

“I am absolutely serious. Each of you owns 50% of this business.”

 

Cassandra and Leliana looked at each other in astonishment, completely blindsided by this act of generosity from their dear departed friend. Cassandra was the first to react, reaching out to grab at Leliana’s hand, hoping that their physical connection would allow some of the shock to abate. Realistically, she should have known it wouldn’t do anything. But having Leliana’s hand did make it easier to deal with the sudden turn of events.

 

 

Mr. Rainier cleared his voice, pulling Cassandra and Leliana out of their stunned silence. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” Leliana and Cassandra gave a nod of their heads. “If either of you do not wish to partake in this opportunity and are wanting to sell off your share, you must wait twelve consecutive months before doing so, as per her request. Now, Any profits that are made after you have signed these documents,” He gave a wave over some official looking letters beneath his hand, “75% must go back into the company to ensure its upkeep. The rest is yours to do with as you wish. If you do indeed decide to sell your share after the allotted time, whether it be to the other share holder or someone new, you will need to draw up a contract that continues the monetary distribution to these exact percentages stated previously. Also, there is the matter of who will take over as CEO. You will both have equal opportunity to become this, but only one will succeed Dorothea in this title. You will both be interviewed by the board of directors for the position and they will choose whoever they think fits the role best. The other shall gain the title of Chief Operating Officer and will directly aid the CEO in the daily dealings with the company. Is any of this unclear or do I need to elaborate on anything before we sign the papers?” Time seemed to slow to a snails pace as the words hit Cassandra one by one, stunning her into further silence. All she could do was nod her head obediently at what Blackwall had just said.

 

Cassandra gave a glance in Leliana’s direction, and noted the equal measure of both shock and surprise that was still written across her face.

 

“I just… I can’t believe this, can you Cassandra?” Leliana turned to her friend, her wide open eyes a reflection of Cassandra’s own.

 

Cassandra cleared her throat. “Not… entirely,” she said, uncertain, and waited patiently for the other shoe to drop.

 

Rainier gave an encouraging smile. “Believe it ladies, this radio station is yours. All you need to do is sign these papers and I can get the process started.”

 

“Do you think I could talk to my colleague outside for a moment, Mr. Rainier?” Leliana finally said, furtively looking at Cassandra as if she had some miraculous information that would help them make a decision.

 

“Of course, take all the time you need,” the man nodded, and both women made their way into the hall, closing the door firmly behind them.

 

“What do you think we should do, Cassandra,” Leliana questioned as she chewed her thumb nail and paced back and forth. “We would be doing the right thing by accepting, yes?”

 

“yes, we would. It is just so sudden to have all this thrust upon us,” Cassandra deliberated. “There is a lot of things to consider here, but I believe our friend did this for a reason and we should not throw this opportunity by the wayside. We should take it, Leli. Besides, signing those papers merely starts the process. If either of us does not feel equipped to handle the strain and responsibility after a year, we can talk about selling off our share to the other person.”

 

Leliana gave a nod, locking eyes with Cassandra. “You’re right. Let’s go sign those papers,” she said with a tentative smile and placing her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, they turned and re-entered the room.

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

“So, how was your day,” Varric inquired as Cassandra passed through his apartment door that evening, hanging her coat up on the hook. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong,” she replied, “It’s just been a very eventful day. You will _never_ guess what happened.”

 

“What? Someone phone in and drag my books through the dirt again,” He bated, allowing a chuckle to pass over his lips as she glared at him for a moment.

 

“No. Not even close,” Cassandra professed. “A lawyer stopped by my office today and spoke to both Leliana and I.”

 

Varric straightened at her words. “A lawyer? What did they say?”

 

“Well,” she sighed, “he came to tell us Dorothea left us each 50% of the radio station in her will. We are now part owners.”

 

Varric’s eyes went wide in surprise, his jaw dropping so low it nearly touched the tuft of chest hair that peeked out from his collared shirt. After slowly recovering from the shock, a breathy laugh escaped him. “seriously? She left you both the station in her will?” The weight of his own words hit him. His girlfriend had just inherited half of the station she worked at. What a fortuitous circumstance this was. Now Cassandra wouldn’t have to be so worried about loosing her job or who would be taking over, because she was going to be the boss.

 

“That’s great news, sweetheart!” Varric rushed over to her and lifted her up off the floor, much to Cassandra’s

surprise. He began twirling her around in elation and soon she was laughing as they spun in circles. After a while, and before they got too dizzy, he placed her firmly back on the floor and stared up at her in disbelief, a huge grin still plastered to his face. At least something was going her way. She needed something to, after having to deal with all the sorrow as of late.

 

Varric clapped his hands together. “This calls for a celebration! I’m taking you out to dinner Ms. Pentaghast, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

 

Cassandra chuckled at his enthusiasm. “I suppose this is cause for festivity, if there ever was one. I accept your invitation, Mr. Tethras,” she said, matching Varric’s phony formality. “but if we are going to do this properly, I would like to change into some nicer clothes first. Do you mind dropping me off at my apartment so I can get ready?”

 

Still keeping with the feigned formality, Varric dipped into a low bow. “Of course, my dear, anything for you.”

 

As he came back up, her hands slipped around his shoulders and placed a soft kiss upon his lips, before resting her forehead upon his. His hands slipped their way around her waist and pulled her close, closing his eyes as he did so, basking in the feeling of her against him.

 

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs.

“So could I,” she answers, and gives him another kiss, before straightening in his arms, pulling him against her chest in a hug.

 

It’s the first attempt after they’ve gotten back together, to speak about the potentiality of a future. And even though Varric would usually balk about any prospect of a future for fear of being hurt, this time he actually felt happy about it. Calm even. Like this time would be different, somehow. Warmth blooms within his chest at the thought of spending the rest of his life with her, the decision becoming clear. He wants all of it. All of the domesticity—living together, marriage, children even—as long as it is with her. Of course, it was much to soon—barely four months since they decided to try again. The thought of asking her to be his wife right now seemed a little too hurried. Too rushed. He would wait. Wait for the right time, and then propose to her. Varric didn’t need to get too ahead of himself, after all. The first real step was moving in together, anyways. Which was something more reasonable he could ask right now. Then, in a year or so, if everything was still going well, he’d revisit his thoughts on proposing.

 

Having everything set in his mind, he unfurled himself from Cassandra. “Alright, I’m gonna go get ready and then we can head over to yours.”

 

Cassandra nodded in agreement, moving to get a book from her bag and sit on the couch to wait.

 

Just before Varric made his way into his bedroom, he took one last look at the woman who had encompassed his heart. Letting a happy sigh breathe out of him, his grin turned soft as he gazed lovingly at Cassandra as she read.

 

_Tethras, you are one lucky bastard._

 

Silently chuckling at the blessing that had befallen him, Varric turned to get ready for an evening, and hoped it would be one they would never forget.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Instead of staying local, he drove them out of town, deciding on taking her to Val Royeaux instead. It was a celebration after all, and if he played his cards right, it would also be the place where she would say yes to moving in with him. Dinner was an amazing affair. Varric made sure of it. He’d picked a secluded little restaurant in the heart of the city called ‘La Petite Rose des Sables’. Usually, a reservation was needed weeks in advance, but since Varric knew the proprietor, he was able to get in without an issue.

 

They were sat at a secluded table for two by the window, overlooking the busy street below. It was perfectly romantic, and Varric had to grin as Cassandra took everything in, a soft, far-away look in her eyes. She was enjoying the effort he had put into the evening. It didn’t take long for the waiter to come and take their order and before they knew it, they were alone again.

 

Varric raised a glass in a toast. “To Dorothea. May her memory live on, and her generosity be paid forward.”

 

Cassandra lifted her own glass. “To dearest Dorothea.” Their flutes clinked and as they both took a sip, the bubbles tickling their tongues. It was bittersweet to celebrate such an unfortunate occurrence as her death, but one they felt was justified by the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity she had given Cassandra. Varric felt that providing a toast in her memory would help take some of the edge off of the melancholy feelings.

 

It didn’t that long for the food to arrive, and they found it as exquisite as the champagne. He took pride in the fact he had chosen the top-notch restaurant, and made a note to tip extra well for the fantastic food and service. They ate in comfortable silence, often smiling tenderly at each other, with some pleasant small talk about work and Varric’s writing. All and all, a very enjoyable evening. It was when they finally ordered desert, however, that Varric finally found the courage to broach the subject of moving in together.

 

“So, I’ve got a question for you. What are your thoughts on co-habitation?”

 

Cassandra’s gaze flicked up from her dainty pastry, shock evident in her eyes. “Co-habitation?” She looked at him, puzzled, placing her fork down on her plate and sitting up to dab the cloth napkin at her mouth.

 

“Yeah. Like living together.”

“I- I’m comfortable with the thought of living together, if that’s what you mean,” her brows narrowed suspiciously.

 

Varric leaned forward, and took her hand in both of his. “What about in regards to us? Would you be comfortable with the thought of us living together?” He looked up at her through his copper eyelashes, hoping beyond hope she’d accept.

 

Cassandra gasped, and her free hand flew to her mouth. “You’re asking me if I’d be alright with living together?”

 

Varric nodded. “Mhmm. What do you say, sweetheart?”

 

Her eyes softened and a look of pure bliss swept over her face. “Oh, Varric! Of course! I would love that.” Cassandra got up out of her chair, napkin dropped onto the seat behind her and flung her arms around Varric’s neck and their lips slanted in a kiss. A sudden cough came from behind them and they broke the kiss and both looking in the direction of the noise, they found their waiter standing there with a gigantic grin upon his face. A blush crept up Varric’s chest and face which seemed to transfer directly to Cassandra. They parted awkwardly, not realizing they were giving the waiter a show, Cassandra slipping back into her seat stiffly.

 

“Is there anything else I can get you both? Or would you just prefer the bill?” He looked at them cheekily.

 

Varric looked at Cassandra and with her silent nod of approval, he knew they were finished. “Just the cheque thanks.”

 

The waiter gave a nod of his head and turned to leave, but before Varric let out a sigh of relief, the waiter threw over his shoulder as he walked away, “By the way, congratulations to you both. Hope you’ll be very happy.”

 

After the waiter had disappeared, Varric placed a hand upon his brow and groaned. He really hadn’t expected someone to watch that display of affection. He felt Cassandra’s hand, slender and warm, wrap around his other hand and he looked up to see her giving the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. It was so full of affection and love, the embarrassment he had felt moments before melted instantly.

 

“My love, thank you for this wonderful evening. I am truly blessed to have someone like you by my side.”

 

A gentle smile grew upon his lips as he gazed at her, bringing her hand up to his mouth and brushing his lips upon her knuckles. “So am I, sweetheart. So am I.” Her hand slipped from his fingers and came to rest upon her lap as the waiter returned with the bill. He paid, and they soon found their way back to his car, Varric making sure to hold every door open for Cassandra in true gentlemanly fashion. As they began the long drive back to Cassandra’s apartment, he couldn’t help but wonder about who would make the decision to move and where.

 

Varric cleared his throat. “So, I know that this is all new and everything, but we should probably discuss who is actually going to pack up their stuff and move.”

 

“Yes, you’re right,” Cassandra said, nodding. “I just would like to point out that while I would love to move in with you, I am not entirely sure your building will take pets. And I could never consider giving Cailan away.”

 

_Shit. She was right. His building had a strict no pets policy._

 

“Yeah, my building doesn’t like pets. So, I guess I’ll be the one doing the moving then. Are you okay with that?”

 

He glanced at her for a moment, the headlights from oncoming traffic illuminating her beautiful features, and saw a smile grace her lips. “Yes. I would love for you to move in with me Varric.” A happy sigh floated out from her and settled between them, her hand falling on his thigh as he drove them back to her home—their home now, he supposed. A happy smirk tugged at his lips as the thought of living together made his heart thump wildly in his chest while they drove back toward Skyhold.

 

~TtS~

 

Cassandra came into work as if she had floated in on a cloud. Her demeanour was highly uncharacteristic, and quite a few co-workers gave her strange looks as she made her way into her office. Dropping her stuff down by her desk, she flopped down in her chair and leaned her head back against the soft leather backed cushion, letting her legs swivel her seat back and forth a bit, dreamily staring up at the ceiling.

 

What a night.

 

Varric had asked her about living together. She bit her lip and smiled to herself at the precious memory. It must have been hard for Varric to ask her such a question, considering how terrible things had ended between him and Bianca, but the fact that he did it at all meant more than words could say. It meant he believed they had a future together, that he trusted her not to break his heart like Bianca had. And that had Cassandra’s heart all a-flutter. She continued on the rest of the day with a bounce in her step and a dreamy look in her eyes.

 

 

~TtS~

 

He had no idea someone from work had spotted them out to dinner last night. He thought he was safe. This was one of the reason’s why he’d chosen to go to Val Royeaux instead of staying local. And now he was furious.

 

“I have no fucking clue why you think it’s any of your concern. It’s my life, not yours. I will date who I damn well please, Warwick! If you don’t like it, well then that’s too fucking bad! I am not some idiot who you can bully into a decision, just because you think it will be bad for business!”

 

Warwick quirked a brow from behind his desk, clearly unimpressed by his outburst. “So what, Varric? You’re going to disregard the loyalty of your listeners and your co-workers for one woman? Damn right, that’s bad business!” He got up from his chair and stood towering over Varric, glowering at him. “You’ve been her a long time Varric. Don’t make me consider doing something that we’ll both regret.”

 

Varric rolled his eyes at Warwick’s attempt to threaten him and stalked toward the door to his office, the glass pane shuddering as the door slammed shut on his way out.

 

As soon as Varric got back to his office, he began pacing, scrubbing his hands over his face. What was he going to do? He could always quit; being a best-selling author could supply him with all the money he would need to live. But, the fact he enjoyed working as a radio show host had him second guessing his resignation. He really loved his listeners, and had built up a great rapport with some of them over the years. He’d helped people, made people laugh and cry. He couldn’t just give that up, as if it didn’t mean anything to him.

 

He let out a long sigh, and sat down in his chair. Cassandra would know what to do. Maybe she could think of something that he hadn’t.

Varric immediately grabbed his cell phone and dialled her number.

 

As she picked up, a velvety chuckle flowed out over the receiver. “Hello dear heart. What can I do for you?”

 

“Hey Sweetheart. Hope your day is going well.”

 

“It would be better if you were here, but yes, it’s going well.”

 

Varric chuckled. “that makes two of us,” he murmured into the phone before taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’m having a bit of a problem and I was wondering if you could spare a moment? I need a second opinion on something.”

 

Cassandra’s voice turned sullen. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

 

“Well,” Varric started slowly, “Someone saw us together last night, and Warwick is still giving me shit over it.”

 

“What?! When will that bastard learn that it’s none of his business!”

 

Varric smirked. “That’s exactly what I said. I mean, this is getting ridiculous, and I’m not sure how much longer I want to put up with his bullshit. Now, I could always quit, but I don’t want to do that after we’ve just talked about moving in together. I _can_ get by with just being an author, but I’d rather not. I like the feeling of having a steady pay cheque coming in, and to tell you the truth, I love being a radio show host. Got any suggestions on how to deal with this stupid situation?”

 

Cassandra went silent on the other end for a while, and Varric half wondered if she’d hung up, until he finally heard her voice. “I’ve got an idea. Can I please speak to the ass, himself?”

 

Varric had a funny feeling slink through his gut at her words. What was she planning?

 

“Uh, you mean Warwick and not me, right?” he asked nervously.

 

“Ugh, yes Varric. Warwick. I’d like to speak with him.”

 

Varric’s brows furrowed for a moment. “Okay... I’ll go find him.” What did she have planned, indeed? He hoped she wasn’t going to do something rash. He seriously didn’t want to have to wear Warwick’s wrath if Cassandra touched a sore nerve.

 

It didn’t take long to find him, as Warwick was still sitting in his office, his grey suit starkly offsetting his jet black hair.

 

He knocked on the door, announcing his presence. “Hey boss.”

 

Warwick looked up from the papers he was examining, his face morphing into light annoyance. “What is it Varric? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am a busy man.”

 

“Um, I have someone on the phone who wants to speak with you.”

 

Warwick’s eyes widened in surprise. After a moment of deliberation, he relented. “Alright. Hand it over.” His fingers motioning Varric to step closer.

 

The moment the receiver of Varric’s cell phone touched Warwick’s ear, there was yelling. Varric’s face blanched as white as Warwick’s collared shirt, notably wincing as his boss got an ear full. Cassandra was definitely giving Warwick shit; reaming him out on employee etiquette. He couldn’t believe it.

 

Warwick was slack-jawed, eyes nearly bugging out of his skull as Cassandra continued to lay into him. “Yes, I realize that but-...... no, I don’t want a lawsuit..... I was only concerned about the ratings dropping..... Alright.... I see. Well if that’s what Varric wants...,” Warwick looked up Varric, his lips pressed into a thin line and his brow furrowed, and handed him back the phone.

 

“Hey,” Varric said, cautiously, not really sure what just happened.

 

Cassandra jumped right in. “I’ve told your boss, the ass, that you will no longer be working for him. I’ve given him your two weeks notice.”

 

Varric’s eyes shot up. “You did what?? Cassandra how could-”

 

Cassandra cut him off. “You will be working for Leliana and I from now on. And if any of your friends want to join you, I would be glad to take them on as well. Now, I don’t want to hear another word about it. It’s settled.”

 

He was speechless. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Cassandra would offer him a job as a solution to his boss’ antics. And to extend the offer to his friends as well... he couldn’t believe it. It was unprecedented.

 

“Varric? Are you still there?”

 

“I- You- seriously? You want me to switch stations and work for you?”

 

“Is that a problem?” Cassandra shot back, a marked amusement lining her words.

 

“Of course not! For one, I’d get to see my girlfriend as much as I wanted. I mean who wouldn’t jump at the chance to do that?” Varric grinned and bounced on his toes as his boss glared and rolled his eyes at him. “And your serious about bringing on any of my friends along too?”

 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. Your friends are welcome to join if they wish.”

 

Varric hadn’t ever had someone stick out their neck like this for him. It made his heart swell so large, he thought it would burst. She had done this for him; She confronted his boss so they no longer had to hide their relationship from the public eye. If this didn’t say “I love you with all my heart”, he couldn’t say what would.

 

Varric grinned like a Maker-damned fool. “Cass, honey? I love you more than words can say. You are amazing. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.” He lowered his voice as an aside, murmuring gruffly into the receiver so his boss couldn’t hear, “and when I get home, I want to show you just how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

 

“I’m sure that can be arranged my love,” she said with a flirtatious chuckle. “I look forward to it. Now, I must go, I’ve got some explaining to do to Leliana. I doubt she thought our first decision as owners would be to potentially hire on four new people. I’ll see you tonight.

 

“See you tonight, honey.”

 

With that, Varric hung up his cell, and glanced at his boss. “Well Warwick, can’t say I’m not glad things worked out the way they did,” he walked closer to his boss, eyes narrowing slightly. “Looks like you’ll have some hiring to do... and for your sake, I hope you treat your new employees with more respect than you did with me. If I get one word that you’re treating others unfairly, regardless if your worried about the ratings, Cass’ and I will make sure you don’t work in this town again. Do we have an understanding?” He stuck his hand out over Warwick’s wood desk.

 

Warwick’s jaw clenched and his lips pressed themselves into a sneer, openly refusing to take Varric’s hand. “Fine. But if things don’t work out, don’t come running to me for help, because there won’t be any.”

 

“Suits me just fine. I wouldn’t want your help even if you offered it openly to me. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be eating your words _very_ soon...,” Varric smirked at his ex-boss’ attempt at being contemptible, and walked out of his office, relieved he’d never have to set foot in it again

 

 

~TtS~

 

 

It had been a year since Cassandra had taken a strip off of Varric's boss. A year since he'd moved in and started working for her and Leliana, and it had been the best year she could ever remember.

 

Working at the station with Varric was a joy; they ended up starting a new show—one she and Varric hosted together, free from ridicule from others about their relationship. That new show, called The Seeker and Storyteller, instantly became a massive hit, blowing Warwick's skewed discriminatory view out of the water. Merrill, Hawke and Bela also left Warwick's station in Varric's wake and had been leagues happier than they ever were at their old station. Cassandra made sure it was so.

 

Leliana ended up being chosen by the board to become CEO, and even though she was a bit sad she wasn't chosen, Cassandra was immensely happy that her friend had gained the role. Together, they worked closely to make sure Dorothea's station became a prominent and defining cornerstone of Skyhold, acquiring many awards for their excellence.

 

And on the one year anniversary, she found herself back at 'La Petite Rose des Sables' enjoying another fabulous dinner with the man she loved, feeling utterly blessed for the wonderful things that had happened.

 

Something was off though. She'd never seen Varric so nervous.

 

He kept pulling at his shirt collar, and his face was unusually flushed. She had no idea why he seemed so out of sorts, and even made sure to ask him if he was feeling alright, he supplied with 'yeah, it's just a bit hot in here, is all', which was odd, because the temperature felt fine to her.

 

Then, as desert was being served, she saw something glint at the top of her dainty pastry with blueberries.

 

A _ring_.

 

Her eyes widened drastically and a hand moved to her cover her mouth. Flicking up to look at Varric—who by this time was flashing her a grin—got off of his chair and got down on one knee before her, taking her left hand and pulling it close to him. Tears began to prick at Cassandra's eyes as she glanced down at Varric, elation overflowing in her heart at what he was about to do.

 

“Look, I know it's not been terribly long since we started this journey together, but I've known in my heart for a while now that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So...” Plucking the gorgeous ring from the top of her pastry, he held it up between them, the diamond twinkling as much as his titanite eyes in the candle light. “Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—too many damn names—Pentaghast, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

 

Overjoyed sobs found their way out before she was able to exult her enthusiasm of his proposal. “Yes, Varric. A thousand times, yes!”

 

Taking the diamond ring, he slowly slid it onto her ring finger and gave it a kiss as it found its home at her last knuckle. As he pulled away, she marvelled at it on her shaking hand; he had done exceptionally well in choosing something she liked. It was a simple, low profile solitaire on a white gold band—exactly what she would have chosen for herself, if she had the chance. Her arms flung around his neck forcefully, nearly choking him with her enthusiasm as she cried jubilant tears onto his the crook of his neck.

 

“Oh Varric,” Cassandra murmured into his shoulder as he held her while the other patrons clapped, whistled and shouted their praise. “I love you more than words can say, dear heart. It would be my privilege. I am so very happy right now, I think my heart will burst with it.”

 

He pulled away from her for a moment, and wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs, love overflowing in his eyes as she admired him. Noting the tear tracks running down his own tanned skin, she realized he was also overwhelmed with happiness to the point of crying. Instantly she pressed her lips to his skin, erasing each tear that had fallen, leaving kisses there instead and only pulling away when there was no trace of wetness upon his cheeks left.

 

It was even more than anything she could have hoped for, and as they left the restaurant that evening, hands laced together, she felt as if she could take on the world with Varric by her side. Cassandra couldn't wait for what the Maker had planned for them, because Varric would be there with her every step of the way, whether it was good or bad.

 

She sighed happily as she stared out of the passenger side of Varric's car while he drove them back home. Everything seemed to have fallen into place, and all of her prayers had been answered. Cassandra looked up into the star-lit sky and sent a silent thank you to her dearly departed friend, who surely must have had a hand in everything that had befallen to her as of late. Knowing that Dorothea was up there, looking down on her, guiding her as much as the Maker, warmed her heart. Regardless if her friend was gone, she would make sure to think on her during all the remaining days she had left on the earth and vowed never to forget what her sacrifice had brought Cassandra's way: A job she adored and a man who she loved with all her heart.

 

 

Fin

 

 


End file.
